Love Bites

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Love Bites

Copyright © 2013 by Cari Quinn

ISBN: 978-1-61333-504-8

Cover art by Mina Carter

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

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Love Bites

By

Cari Quinn

~DEDICATION~

To my mom, who is always beyond supportive, and to my amazing CP, Taryn Elliott, who writes crack books and soothes my soul. Nuggets for the win!

Chapter One

“Are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure.” Kellan Barstow raised the hood of his Mercedes and stepped back to look at the mostly deserted stretch of road. Traffic was light in this area past sunset. Nothing was wrong with the car, but a broken-down vehicle was the perfect ruse to get the woman headed this way to stop. “Now, we wait.”

“Odd place to pick up a female,” Luke Phillips said, scratching his stomach through his black button-down Oxford. His idea of clothes to go trolling in consisted of a trench coat, suit pants, and a dress shirt. At least he’d left the wingtips at home.

Small favors.

“Not so odd.” Kellan tipped the brim of his baseball cap back to check his watch in the thin beam of the street light. “Fewer people equals less attention.”

“Shit, Kell, you planning on killing her or fucking her?”

Kellan flashed him a smile. Oh, he had plans for the woman, and they required her to be very much alive. But men of…their breeding…couldn’t be too discreet. “Fucking will suffice. Though if you’re good, I’ll let you take your turn first,” he replied, though he was beginning to think that wasn’t too likely.

Sydney would be his. Only his. And if he shared her with his best friend for Luke’s own good, that sharing wouldn’t last more than the night.

He’d picked this street, approximately two blocks from the shop where he took his nightly coffee break, for two reasons. First, it was dimly lit and rarely traveled. Second, Sydney would come this way into town, as she did every evening. He’d taken note of her routine about a week ago when he’d arrived at Pastry ’n’ Joe earlier than usual. Speaking with her was the highlight of his day, so he’d waited until he saw her small white Chevy zooming down the street. She’d parked haphazardly, occupying one and a half spaces, and then run inside with her dark hair askew and her eyes delightfully wild. It had taken everything he possessed to calmly request his black coffee when he’d yearned to take her where she stood.

She was gorgeous. Simply mesmerizing. That was the night he’d decided he would have her. Luke was along for the ride, mainly because Kellan was tired of seeing his friend pine for his One True Mate. If screwing another woman didn’t spur Lucas into action where Emily Yost was concerned, nothing would.

Vampire logic and humans never mixed well. But the heart—and blood pheromones—chose what they would, reason be damned.

Kellan took a deep breath. He didn’t see the Chevy yet, but he’d smelled the succulent aroma of Sydney’s sugar-drenched plum perfume as soon as they’d approached this stretch of road. He’d pulled off where she would be sure to see them and his car would be safe from harm.

“Lot of work for some snatch,” Luke muttered. “Better be worth it.”

Kellan only smiled and sucked in more of her scent. Close, closer. She was barreling right toward them, hellbent for something. Someone.

Two someones.

And they would be waiting.

***

Sydney Langdon exited the highway in the same overexcited state she’d been in since discovering her boyfriend in bed with her closest friend. Her closest
male
friend.

She needed to fuck.

Most likely, becoming aroused by what she’d witnessed was an odd reaction. She was used to being odd. A woman who made her living reading chakras and doing tarot card spreads for bored housewives and naïve college students didn’t mind walking the path less traveled. Nor did she care if her parents or her friends would chastise her for feeling lusty rather than outraged.

Her nicked heart always subjugated itself to sex. So did her appetite for food, which was why, at twenty-nine, she was the same size she’d been in high school. Other people scarfed down Rocky Road and loaded up on onion rings when they were down.

She just
went
down.

She sighed and pushed the volume up button on her CD player. Nine Inch Nails would soothe what ailed her, at least temporarily. It wasn’t like her relationship with her now-ex had been all that long-term. Barely two months. Neither she nor Tate had ever brought up the future. And both Tate and Jed had apologized profusely and begged her to understand. They hadn’t planned on their…situation happening.

Yeah, it sucked sideways, but she didn’t begrudge them finding each other, though a little disclosure first would’ve been nice. Hell, maybe the two of them would discover the spark she herself had never found with Tate.

In the meantime, all hope wasn’t lost. She could always peruse her little pink book. After all, she hadn’t been coupled up that long. Surely she could find a man willing to console her with some doggie-style lovin’.

She slowed down to get a better look at the two figures walking along the side of the road. It had started pouring a few minutes ago, but neither seemed in much of a hurry. Though she couldn’t see their faces, she caught a glimpse of long, white-blond hair. The other person wore some kind of cap. Both were tall and broad-shouldered, dismissing any possibility that either could be female.

The dark-haired man turned and flashed a predatory smile as he stuck out a thumb. Even from the shadows, that smile blazed through her, causing her nipples to harden against her demi-cup bra.

Did she dare?

Nettles, Maine wasn’t exactly a metropolis. Her town boasted a population of less than a thousand. The last murder had occurred over twenty years ago. Besides, her reflexes were as energetic as her libido, and her street smarts had never failed her. A quick conversation with these two mystery men would let her know if they were likely candidates for the night’s festivities.

Two
.

Her own smile bloomed in return. She’d never done two at once. There had been that wild night her senior year of college when she’d stumbled, in a drunken stupor, from one friend’s bed to another’s, but that had been serial sex. Not simultaneous.

Her pussy dampened at the thought.

Sydney drove past them, then slammed on the brakes and steered over to the side of the road. This street was poorly lit, and it wasn’t safe for pedestrians. Picking the men up would be a public service.

If
they passed her test.

She rolled down her window and blinked at the deluge that pelted her in the face. The endless thunk-thunk-thunk of her windshield wipers was annoying so she silenced them with an irritated flick of her wrist. When she glanced back, the two gentlemen were already approaching the car.

And the darker of the two looked deliciously familiar.

“Hello.” The blond man spoke first. His long, wet hair curved against the alluring hollows of his raw-boned face and spilled over the shoulders of his black calf-length coat. But it was his eyes, a startlingly vivid shade of Windex blue evident even in the dim light, that caused her heart to pump faster. “Nice night for a drive, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she mumbled. “Love the rain.”

She swallowed over the sudden lump of nerves in her throat. These weren’t skinny guys. Not that she liked scrawny men, but if the lust tingling in her belly overrode her good sense and she turned out to be wrong, she didn’t know if she could take them. Even the pocketknife tucked in her purse next to her spray can of Mace wouldn’t help much, if the sheer potent masculinity pouring over her was any indication.

Then the second man stepped forward, and her concerns floated away on the gush of liquid between her thighs. Black hair crept out from under his ball cap—Florida Marlins—and a wet white T-shirt clung to his pecs under the snug bomber jacket that hugged his waist. As he moved closer, the appealing scent of damp leather filled her nostrils.

Oh, God, could there be a hotter cologne? Umm, no, she didn’t think so.

Even better? This mystery man wasn’t a stranger, after all. At least not completely. She worked four nights a week at the local coffee shop, Pastry ’n’ Joe, and this guy had come in during each of her shifts for the last three weeks. Handy thing, too, because severe horniness aside, she’d had some doubts about fucking two random guys.

Sydney tugged her lower lip between her teeth. But since she sorta knew dark and dangerous….

They’d smiled and flirted, nothing more. Rampant sex drive aside, she didn’t pursue other men while she was in a relationship, even a mostly casual one. She was horny, yes. A cheater, no.

But all the rules had gone out the window now.

“We meet again.” He had just a hint of an accent, faintly Southern, as if he hadn’t been home in a while. “Can’t say I’ve ever been happier to see a woman before.”

She arched a brow. “Any woman?” Somehow that hadn’t been the opening she’d been hoping for. Not that she expected him to say she was his soulmate, but c’mon. A little charm never hurt.

“No.” The intensity of his gaze would have been unnerving, if she hadn’t felt a matching intensity pulsating between her thighs. “You are the woman I’ve been waiting for.”

Sydney swallowed hard.
Okay
. From stranger-danger sex to being
the
woman. That qualified as a quickie, all right.

“Are you working tonight?”

“Uhhh….” Great. Suddenly her lips weren’t capable of forming anything but grunts and her tongue had swollen to the size of a shoe. She’d had the same reaction to him every night he had strolled into the restaurant. “No, tonight’s my night off. I, uh, was coming from home.”

“Well, as long as you come my way—” he smiled, lightning-fast and devastating “—I’m glad.”

She pressed her legs together. Shit, she hoped she didn’t soak clear through to her shorts. She’d had to wring out a couple pairs of panties after their innocent exchanges over the coffee shop counter. What would happen if he touched her? Would she implode on the spot?

“I’m not sure we were ever properly introduced. I’m Kellan Barstow.” He extended a hand that gleamed as pale as his friend’s, but that didn’t faze her. She’d seen her share of fair guys around these parts, as Maine in early May didn’t lend itself to deep tans. “And you would be?”

Should she tell him her real name, first
and
last? This wouldn’t be more than a one-night thing. Probably wouldn’t even take that long. And he patronized her workplace. Her nametag at the coffeeshop identified her just as “Syd” so maybe she’d be better off being as vague as possible. She had no intention of tying herself up in more strings after she’d just gnawed through one raggedy knot.