One Lucky Vampire (36 page)

“Honey, can you maybe get out of that outfit or pull on a robe so we can talk?” he asked in a pained tone. He really didn’t want her out of it, he wanted to make love to her while she wore it . . . well, minus the panties. He’d like to rip those off of her . . . maybe with his teeth.

Jake heard Nicole moving around behind him, some rustling, and then she said, “Okay.”

Letting out a breath, Jake turned to look at her and felt his knees go weak. She’d taken off the fedora and pulled on a short black silk robe that didn’t cover a damned thing in the pose she’d assumed. She was reclining on the bed, one leg bent, the other flat out, resting on her elbows, her hair and the robe hanging down to gather on the bed and cover absolutely nothing.

“Nicole, please,” he pleaded weakly. “We have to talk.”

“Yes,” she said and he blinked in confusion.

“Yes, what?” he asked uncertainly.

“To whatever you want to ask me,” Nicole responded at once.

Jake hesitated and then said, “I want to ask if you’d be willing to at least consider being my life mate.”

“Yes,” she repeated.

Jake frowned. “You will?”

Now she looked uncertain. “Am I not supposed to say yes? Did you want me to say no?”

“No, of course not,” he said at once. “But . . . don’t you want some time to think about it?”

Sighing with exasperation, Nicole sat up and scooted to the end of the bed, the robe trailing out behind her. “Jake, I just took on a gun-toting sicko with nothing but a pillow to save your life. I’m pretty sure that means my feelings for you are pretty strong.”

She tilted her head and smiled crookedly. “You’re smart, I respect you, and . . .” Nicole hesitated and then confessed, “That day in the SUV when the brakes went out, all I kept thinking was, “Thank God it’s Jake at the wheel.” She eyed him solemnly. “I trust you with my life. I’m pretty sure I love you. But more importantly, I like you.”

“That’s more important than love?” he asked with amusement.

Nicole nodded solemnly. “I have relatives I love, but don’t much respect or like. I couldn’t live with them if my life depended on it. But I like and respect you. I enjoy your company and I can imagine a future with you.”

Jake simply stared at her in the silence that followed. His heart had felt like it expanded with every word she’d spoken and now it felt so swollen it ached. She liked and respected him. The way she explained it, that was the best thing in the world.

When Nicole stood up suddenly, looking uncertain, and muttered something unintelligible as she turned toward the bathroom, Jake realized he’d been silent too long.

“I like you too,” he blurted, catching her arm to stop her leaving.

Nicole hesitated and then turned slowly back, eyes still uncertain. “Really?”

“Oh, yes, really,” Jake assured her, pulling her against his chest so he could wrap his arms around her and hold her close. “I love your talent, your brain, your sense of humor, your body”—his hands began to move over her back and bottom as he continued—“your passion”—he slid the robe off her shoulders, leaving her in only the sexy outfit and urged her back to get a better look as he added, “your taste in clothes. Cripes, this is the sexiest damned thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I wanted to apologize for getting short with you about suspecting my brother. He was the best suspect,” she admitted.

“But not the culprit,” Jake pointed out dryly and then ran his finger lightly down the lacing on the front of the top, brushing along the curve of one breast between each narrow strip of black leather that held the nearly see-through scraps of the top together. “And if this is your idea of an apology, it’s a damned fine one and I love that about you too.”

Nicole gave a breathless laugh and shivered under his touch, her nipples hardening under the thin cloth. The sight of it made his mouth water, but he asked, “Are you sure you’re willing to be my life mate?”

She nodded, and said breathlessly, “If it means you’ll make me feel like this for the next century or two, then definitely.”

When Jake paused and frowned with concern at the answer, Nicole sighed, and raised her hands to frame his face, saying solemnly, “Jake, I have never been good at choosing men. My husband and every guy I’ve dated have been jerks. But your mother assures me that the nanos never make mistakes, and that you’re a good man. Maybe it’s just because I want to, but I believe her and that makes me feel for the first time in my life that my instincts are right and we’ll work. That my love has been given to the right man this time. So . . .” She kissed him lightly on the lips. “Yes, I’m sure I want to be your life mate.”

“You know it means becoming one of us?” Jake added solemnly.

Nicole glanced up, the first flicker of uncertainty crossing her face, and making him hold his breath, but then she straightened her shoulders and nodded.

Relief rushing through him, Jake picked her up by the waist and tossed her on the bed.

Nicole landed with a squeal and a bounce, and then pushed herself up to watch him rip off his T-shirt and jeans with more haste than grace. He couldn’t get them off quick enough. They’d had their talk, she’d agreed, and now he fully intended on accepting her apology and making love to her until she couldn’t stand up straight. Well, okay, until they both passed out, which ought to be about two or three seconds. Jake didn’t think he’d last much longer than that at this point, and could only be grateful that the nanos would ensure she experienced the same pleasure he did.

“Will it hurt?”

Jake was hopping on one foot, tugging off a sock when Nicole asked that with trepidation. Straightening, the sock in hand, he peered at her uncertainly, and then his brain cleared. With his thoughts on making love to her, he’d thought she was asking if sex would hurt. But they’d had sex before. It was the turning she was talking about, he realized.

Jake hesitated, thinking back to his own turning. He’d been stabbed in the chest, which had hurt like crazy, and then had passed out and woken up several days later feeling like he’d been left out in the desert sun for days. He’d been incredibly thirsty, but pain free as he recalled.

“I don’t think so,” he said finally, hopping on his bare foot to remove the other sock now. “But we’ll check with someone.”

Nicole nodded absently. Her gaze had shifted to his groin, her eyes widening at the sight of him.

Jake finished pulling off the second sock, tossed it aside and stepped forward to crawl onto the bed, his hands and knees on either side of her body as he moved up the bed until he was directly over her. Looking down into her precious face, he said solemnly, “Nicole, I promise that no matter what happens, I’ll never hurt you like Rodolfo did.”

“Rodolfo who?”

Jake blinked in surprise and peered into her eyes, relaxing when he saw the laughter there. He opened his mouth, but whatever he’d been going to say, died on a hiss as her hand closed around his erection.

“Jake?” she whispered.

“Yes?” he got out through ground teeth as her hand moved over him.

“Please, shut up and make love to me now.”

“God I love you,” he growled and lowered his mouth to claim hers even as he shifted out of her hold to claim her body. He did love this woman, Jake acknowledged as Nicole moaned and arched into his thrusts. The grim future he’d envisioned since waking up to find himself an immortal suddenly rolled out before him a much brighter, happier one . . . and much longer too.

In fact, it seemed now like his being stabbed had been a gift. Jake never would have been turned by Vincent, and then wouldn’t have run away and met Nicole without it. He’d have worked out his sunset years as the daytime VP at V.A. Inc., a bitter old mortal, resenting everyone around him. But now? Now he had Nicole, and she was everything he could have ever wanted. The future looked bright, and he was one hell of a lucky vampire.

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L
ORD
Radcliffe drew his horse to a halt and stared at the spectacle being played out before him. A young lad in the clothes of the gentry was standing under the front window of an inn, staring up the skirts of a girl hanging out of a second-floor window. The lad seemed to be speaking to the lass as he tried to grab at her feet, but Radcliffe was too far away to hear what was being said.

Deciding that they were probably trying to run out on their bill, Radcliffe started to urge his horse on to the stables, not really caring enough to get involved. But at that moment, the girl pushed herself off the ledge to dangle from her arms. Radcliffe slowed and stopped again, amused. The boy caught the girl’s ankles to keep her from slamming into the building, then stepped under her to offer his aid the rest of the way down.

Unable to see what she was doing, the girl stepped on the lad’s wig with one foot, setting it askew. She nearly lost her grip and tumbled backward to the ground when the obviously irate youth jerked her foot from his head to his shoulder. He then directed the other foot with about as much care.

Radcliffe chuckled under his breath as the woman suddenly dropped to sit on the boy’s shoulders. Her skirts fell over the lad’s head as she did, blinding him, and the shift in position unbalanced him enough so that he stumbled backward, then to the side as he fought to push the skirt out of his view. At this point, the woman clutched at his hair for balance, forgetting it was a wig. It lifted from his head with her hands, and her upper body swung backward. The lad, already off-balance, tumbled backward with her. They both hit the ground with soft thuds, hidden briefly in the shadow of the inn.

“D
amn,” Charlie muttered, staring up at the treetops above them until a pitiful moan from Beth stirred the cool night air. Sitting up, Charlie surveyed the prone girl with a worried frown. “Are you all right?”

Elizabeth sighed at the question. Her moan had been one of chagrin, but the concerned face suddenly leaning over her own told her that it had been misconstrued.

“Fine,” she said dryly. She sat up to brush grass and dirt off of her dress.

Charlie started to help, but Beth waved the attempt away.

“Your wig is gone,” she pointed out.

Sitting back, Charlie searched the shadows for the errant wig, then slapped it irritably against one leg to remove the grass clinging to it before slamming it back in place. “Is it straight?”

Beth glanced up long enough to nod, then struggled to her feet.

“Well. That wasn’t so bad,” Charlie murmured cheerfully, standing and moving to snatch up the bags they had thrown out the window before descending themselves.

Beth turned sharply, mouth open to give her own opinion of the debacle, but caught the twinkle of laughter in the coal black eyes that were so like her own. She relaxed, grinning back. “A ride in the park,” she agreed dryly.

Laughing softly, Charlie handed her a bag, took the other one, and led the way to the stables.

“Is he unconscious?” Beth murmured as they entered the tottering old building and spied the stable lad slumped in a corner against a bale of hay. The bottle they had given him was still clasped to his chest.

“Seems to be. You did put the sleeping powder in there, did you not?”

Beth nodded silently, but held her breath as her twin carefully approached the boy, then lifted his head and let it drop back to his chest. He didn’t even stir.

Shrugging, Charlie stepped back. “Out like a drunken sot.”

Her breath rushing out in relief, Beth moved quickly along the stalls until she found the one where her mount had been settled for the night. Murmuring soothingly, she stepped inside to set about quickly saddling him while Charlie did the same for the mount in the next stall.

Several moments later, Beth was aware at once when her twin suddenly stiffened. Going still herself, she glanced up and about, her heart nearly freezing in her chest at the sight of a figure in the shadows by the door. Charlie tossed her a warning look, then affected the accent of the servant class and asked, “Some’ing I can do fer ye, m’lord?”

One eyebrow rising at the boy’s accent, Radcliffe smiled slightly. “It is very bad manners to sneak out without paying one’s bill. And stealing horses is a crime.”

Charlie stiffened, eyes shooting to Beth’s face. The girl was as pale as the moon, her expression panicked as their gazes met.

Radcliffe noted the silent exchange and wished for better lighting in the stables. He’d bet a lot of money that the girl was a beauty. His eyes were straining to make out her features in the darkness when the lad spoke up again.

“We are not stealing. The horses are ours.”

The false accent was gone, he noted absently, glancing at the boy. Obviously gentry, as he had suspected. “And your bill?”

“Taken care of.”

Radcliffe raised one doubting eyebrow. “Then why not leave by the door like most people?” he asked, noting the couple again exchanging glances.

Charlie was trying to decide just what to tell the snoopy hitch in their plans when Beth suddenly moved out of the stall and into the stream of moonlight coming through the stable doors.

Noting the look of appreciation that immediately entered the stranger’s eyes, Charlie peered at the girl now too, curious to know what the man found so attractive. Beth was pretty enough. Straight nose, good teeth. Her eyes were her best feature, large and blue-black, while her hair was an unremarkable brown. All of which described Charlie as well. Not surprising, since they were twins. But it was doubtful that the man had noticed that fact yet.

“We were forced to leave through the windows to escape my uncle,” the girl said.

Radcliffe arched an eyebrow. “Why would you need to escape your uncle?”

Noting yet another exchange of glances between the young couple, Radcliffe smiled wryly. “Or need I ask?”