In the Dead of Cold (6 page)

“Let me.”

In those two words, she heard the seductive lover who filled her dreams every night.

Without another word, he led her into the shower. Holding her against him, he turned on the spray. His plumbing was designed to spray water at all angles, showering Jane with its warmth from every direction, not just from above.

The heat of the water relaxed her even more. She leaned against him and discovered he was little more than hard, lean planes that fit to her like a puzzle piece. Being close to him warmed her more than the water did.

“I thought you would be cold.”

His hands moved across her body as if he played a fine, delicate instrument. He paused in scrubbing her with soap. “What?”

“I thought vampires were cold. Bart was.”

“No doubt. Am I cold in our dreams?”

“No. But vampires are in the movies.”

“And you believe everything you see in the movies?” He continued with his cleansing massage.

“No.” She tried to get even closer to his heat.

“Good, because vampires are more human than the movies ever give us credit for.”

Despite the kiss, he seemed oblivious to her being naked and covered with bubbles as he scrubbed her, except for the fact that his dick was wonderfully hard and pressed against her at every opportunity.

“Do you feel better now that I’ve cleaned you off?”

Oh, did she!
“Yes.” The cold, dirty feel of Bart had slithered down the drain, leaving nothing but Milo’s mesmerizing touch that was better than any dream and hotter than the steam filling the small room. His hands on her breasts, swirling soap suds in circles, caused her insides to melt and stream warm liquid to her pussy.

Heat, need, want, and desire rolled into her with each touch of his hands and fingers. She sighed and held on to his arms in an effort to allow the energy she felt in him to flow into her.

The abrasions from her scuffle with Bart burned, but it was easy to ignore the pain while Milo caressed her nipples with his thumbs, leaving them hard and wanting, seeming to reach for him.

She looked up through the steam and saw raw hunger in his gaze. “Milo?” His hands were in her hair, and it was hard to keep her eyes open under his cleansing massage of her scalp.

“What?” he asked without looking at her.

Well, he was looking at her, just not with his eyes. He studied her body as he smeared bubbles around on her as if he’d never seen her before.

”Did you come to me in my sleep and bite me and drink my blood? Is that why I’ve dreamed about you all this time?” She wasn’t certain she believed him when he said he hadn’t known she existed.

He paused in the process of washing her hair and stared at her as if she’d asked him to swallow a live snake.

“I told you I didn’t think you were real. At first I did, but without a name or a fingerprint or an address, I didn’t have a starting point when it came to finding you.”

She felt his anger again.

“But you knew I was real. You could have contacted me in some way.”

“I was afraid to, knowing what you are,” she admitted. “Besides, I didn’t know until now that we actually shared the dreams together.” It sounded like a lame excuse, but it was the best she could give him just then.

“Well, for the record, if I did know where you were and who you were, I wouldn’t have slithered into your bed in the dark of night and taken something from you without your knowing. It might be another myth glamorized by Hollywood, but that isn’t how I work. Understand?”

“I understand you’re pulling my hair.”

He released his grip and sucked in a loud, heavy breath. Then he tilted her head back into the spray and rinsed the soap away.

Jane understood his words. But it didn’t change what he was. It didn’t change the cold evil she’d felt when Bart had touched her. And it didn’t change that Milo, no matter how much she thought she wanted him or how many dreams she’d shared with him, was a vampire like Bart.

At the same time, she couldn’t deny that his hands felt so different than Bart’s. A complete one-eighty, her brother would say. She could have stayed with Milo forever in the water, leaning her back against his front.

“I want you.” Her pussy ached with need and clenched when his soap-slicked fingers slid over it. “Please.”

He sent her floating to the clouds as he slipped two fingers inside her. Her moan was lost in the sound of the shower spray. She turned to him, searching for his kiss. Finding the heat of his lips sent her higher. Jane felt as if she were flying. In and out his hand moved. He had done this to her last night on a lake bank, made her crazy with want, made her come two times with his fingers before he’d done anything more than kiss her. She closed her eyes and was back on that bank with cool grass beneath her and the lake lapping against the shore in unison with his fingers. She jerked awake with the clenching of her pussy.

She stared at him with wide eyes. Damn, she’d fallen asleep, and he’d made her come.

“I need you too, but I need you awake.”

His voice was gruff and raw with pent-up emotion.

Fuck, she’d fallen asleep. Hell, it was no wonder. She couldn’t stand up without leaning on him. She jerked awake again a moment later and found herself on the built-in shower bench while Milo dried her off with a large, fluffy towel. She wanted to watch his every move. She wanted to feel every touch. But she had no energy left. When she awoke again, she was tucked in his bed, naked, surrounded by his familiar, outdoor, woodsy scent, and his essence touched every inch of her skin with the softness of his sheets.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked.

She’d be warmer with him under the blankets with her, but his bed felt wonderful. “Yes. What are you doing?” Her words were mumbled.

“Putting some ice on the back of your shoulder.”

She felt it as soon as he said it. “Oh, that’s cold.” But her shoulder felt better.

“Yes, but leave it there. You care to tell me what happened to you and how you got all the bruises? I know there’s more to your encounter with Bart than you told us.”

She merely sighed as she gave up the fight against sleep.

MILO SUCKED IN a breath and forced down his frustration when she sighed again as he applied antibiotic ointment on the scrapes on her knees and elbows. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. At least his cock deflated little by little as he cared for her mass of injuries. For a long moment, he stared down at her, taking one breath after another. He told himself he should be glad she was with him, safe. Yet, that didn’t suffice. It was like being given a hand-me-down shirt for Christmas when everyone else got candy and toys.

If Mr. M. hadn’t ordered him to take care of Jane, he’d be out joining the hunt for Bart right now instead of watching Jane sleep and feeling frustrated as hell.

He couldn’t heal her wounds or erase her pain. He couldn’t convince her she could trust him. And he couldn’t slip his cock into her and ease the need he knew they both felt. At the same time, he couldn’t get over how warm her skin felt beneath his fingers. He hadn’t felt heat like hers in more than a century. Her heat radiated throughout him and burned in his dick. Yes, the dreams of her had been wonderful. In them, he fucked her and tasted every inch of her. He got lost in her eyes and in her body, as well as the rhythm of her heartbeat and the sound of her throaty, sexy voice. Before her, he’d rarely slept. Now he slept on a regular basis to be with her, feel her, taste her kiss, and hold her in his arms.

And the dreams were nothing compared to feeling the real woman. He lay down next to her. As he watched her sleep, he fingered her drying hair, relished her softness, and breathed in her soft womanly scent.

Hell, he ached for her. His dick throbbed with need. And it would have been so easy to slide into her, ease his pain, and feel her heat as he had done so many nights before. His once-again hard cock would have begged to feel her if it could talk. He heard her heartbeat. He placed his hands on her and allowed himself to feel lost in her softness. He told himself it was to adjust the ice on her shoulder, but his fingers lingered longer on her skin than they did the ice. He felt her blood pulse through her body. Everything about her set all his nerve endings on edge.

She thought he was a monster. And heaven help him, the monster in him wanted to push her hair aside, press his mouth to her throat, and taste her as she’d accused him of doing. But if he did, he’d be no better than Bart.

That was what kept him from actually being the monster.

But it didn’t keep him from holding her close, pressing himself against her warmth, and relishing the fact that she was finally in his arms.

Milo remained spooned against her for a few moments until she was deep in sleep and warmed up. He settled for the fact that she was in his bed—for real, and close enough to touch. Finally. It was a start to his convincing her that he wasn’t the monster she believed him to be.

He reluctantly climbed out of bed, away from her warmth, and dressed. In the living area, at his desk, he picked up the phone and contacted Mr. M. He knew his boss. Mr. M. would want to talk to him, and he wouldn’t be alone.

Graham knocked on his door eight minutes later. Drew and Zack were with him.

Milo ushered them into the living room.

Zack moved to Milo’s desk, set his laptop down, plugged it in, and turned it on before he sat down in front it.

“James?” Milo questioned.

“He and his team are still at the bookstore but should be back soon.”

“How’s Mrs. M.?”

“She’s fine. The snow kept her from leaving for the bookstore. I have her guarded 24-7 now, even though I doubt she’ll leave the compound.”

Milo noticed his boss’s words were clipped. Mrs. M. had been secretive of late, spending time alone at places like the bookstore and Patty’s Gifts and Gadgets. It was unlike her to browse, but that was what she appeared to do. Milo had watched her himself as she’d moved from book to book in the bookstore, seemingly not looking for anything, much less looking
at
anything.

“How is Ms. Smyth?” Graham asked.

“She’s sleeping now.” Milo was wide-awake. His cock still throbbed with need for Jane. He felt he hid it well as he poured each man a drink. He’d known them for many years, and he knew their preferences.

“Do we need to call Dr. Burns to examine her?”

“I don’t think so. Even though she’s covered with cuts and scrapes and bruises, I don’t think she suffers from any serious wounds.” He handed Graham a glass of red wine. James, No-neck James, would want a glass of whole milk with chocolate syrup. And of course, Milo had plenty waiting. Milo knew it wouldn’t be long after James arrived that he would ask for cookies or chips and dip or numerous other snacks, all of which Milo had on the ready. Drew and Zack both preferred green tea. Both took brown sugar in it. Milo was often amazed how the tastes of those two were the same, as if they were one man. They were twins, although opposites. Zack was blond and fair. Drew was dark and golden.

Feeling the need for something stronger, Milo poured himself a scotch on the rocks, minus the rocks. He swallowed it all in one large gulp, ignoring the way it burned like acid down his throat. Then, he lost his battle of keeping his frustration at bay as he banged the glass down on the coffee table. The sound of the heavy
crack
it made hitting the wood echoed through the room. For a split second, he worried he would wake Jane. But when he listened intently and heard her even breathing, he let his anger loose again. “Hell, she has bruises on her arms that look like fingers. And her shoulder’s a mess. When I think about that pig putting his hands on her…”

The others in the room were unaffected by his sudden burst.

Zack paused in his typing on the computer keyboard.

Because Zack and Drew were both over two centuries old, they had been around with the first computers. They had made millions buying into both IBM and Microsoft, and no one within Graham’s army knew more about how to hack their way into and maneuver around computers than those two men.

Milo watched Zack as he began typing again and took a heavy breath as he worked to gain control. They all waited as he did so. “I thought you were working on a research project.”

“I was. I still am. But I thought I’d take a break and help you.”

For a moment, Milo couldn’t reply. He was overwhelmed by the sense of loyalty and camaraderie. “Thank you.” He had to clear his throat. “What are you looking for?”

“I’m hacking into several programs to see if Bart has left his mark anywhere. He’s been known to buy and sell stock, favoring oil companies and gemstones. So I’m starting with anything pertaining to those. I’ll also check medical records and police records hourly to see if he’s left any victims in his wake.”

Milo turned back to Graham and the others, leaving Zack to the computer work, knowing that if Bart had left any traces anywhere within the business world, Zack would find it.

“You said James was still at the bookstore. Have you heard from him or what he’s found?”

Graham sat down on the sofa and crossed his ankle over his opposite knee as if he didn’t have a worry in the world. “We’ll discuss that in a moment, as soon as he gets here. First, I want to know what you can tell us about Jane Smyth.”

“I haven’t known her any longer than you have.” It was a lame attempt at the truth, and Milo knew it.

Graham raised a brow. “Is that so?” He paused. “Is she the woman who haunts your dreams?”

Milo sank on to the other sofa as if he had just been punched in the stomach and all the air was knocked out of him. “How is it possible?” His question was muttered more to himself than to the others.

Graham leaned toward the coffee table that separated them. “I know you mentioned dreaming about her. I also know you did a data search and tried to find her.”

“I couldn’t find her anywhere. But then, I didn’t know her name until today. In our dreams, we’re just you and me or him and her. I know that sounds stupid, but I never asked her name, and she never asked mine. It wasn’t necessary, and I thought she was a figment of my imagination.”