What Happens in Vegas...After Dark (11 page)

Concern flashed in his eyes. Then he seemed to remember who I was, that I didn’t deserve his pity, and he crossed his arms over his scrumptious chest and leaned against the doorjamb. Stiffly, he asked, “Feeling better?”

I swallowed hard against the lump of panic in my throat. Not bothering to feign the Southern drawl any longer, I nodded. “Much. Thank you. What you did—”

“Was asinine.” He smirked. “I should have left you dead, the same way you would have me.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He gave a detached shrug. “It’s my job to save lives. I did my job.”

Just as he had with Jada.

He didn’t need to voice the words. I couldn’t read his mind now, whether he was aroused or otherwise, but I could easily guess what he was thinking. Did he get that I’d been, more or less, doing my job, too? “It was my job to kill you. But I didn’t want to do it, not after those first few days. I don’t think I could have.”

Ryan’s smirk deepened. He let out a boisterous laugh without a trace of mirth. “What’s the matter, your demon sense slipping?”

“I’m not a succubus anymore.”

His smirk turned to a wary look. He straightened from the doorjamb, visibly tensing in the process. “If this is some sort of trap to get inside so you can give fucking me to death another go, don’t—”

“It’s not a trap,” I rushed out. “If I were still a succubus, I wouldn’t need to get inside. I could teleport myself there. The same way I teleported both of us out of the processing plant basement that night.”

Surprise widened and then narrowed his eyes. “You knocked me out?”

Guilt reared up, merging with the anxiety clawing at my throat. “It seemed the only way to get you out of there alive.”

“Why would you want me to get out of there alive?”

My nerves feeling like they’d been rubbed raw, I chanced a soft smile. Damn, if that didn’t make me feel al warm and tingly inside. I’d always thought those corny love-struck smiles were a bunch of crap, but then I’d been doing a lot of reassessing as of late. “I got moony.” Emotion shook the words. “I don’t know why now, after two hundred years of screwing with barely a care, but you did it to me. I couldn’t let you die that day and I really don’t think I could have let you die three nights ago.”

Ryan studied my face long and hard, making me want to squirm with the intensity of his eyeing, before asking, “So you’re human now?”

A huge sigh slipped from my lips. He stil wasn’t smiling, but at least he hadn’t shut the door in my face. Letting my own smile grow, I admitted, “You turned me.”

“What, with my unrequited love?”

Despite his sarcastic tone, my heart did a little flip-f lop number of hope. “Do you love me? Is that why you saved me?”

Emotion to rival my own entered his eyes. Snorting, he looked away and then back again. “I don’t even know you, Deitre, how the hell could I love you?”

Hope surging through me now, I gave him my most tender smile. “You know me better than most anyone ever has, Ry. You obviously care, as well, or you wouldn’t have saved me. You turned me into a human by giving me your mortal blood when I was drained of my own. And your love wasn’t unrequited. It still isn’t.”

He uncrossed his arms, and I considered that now he might slam the door in my face.

But he just returned to studying my own. The seconds ticked on again. Finally, he spoke, letting his feelings come through in his voice. Not loathing, but warmth that slowly slid into his deep green eyes and emerged in that adorable lopsided smile. “Where do you expect to go from here?”

God, anywhere, now that he was back to smiling.

Feeling capable of flying even without wings, I went for it, pressed my body tight to Ryan’s and answered with the press of my mouth. His lips parted instantly, his tongue going wild against mine in a heartbeat. Cupping my ass in his palms, he lifted me up his body. I’d never used much in the way of seduction powers to make him want me. Our chemistry had always been explosive on its own. Explosive and burning thick in my blood as he ground his growing cock against my mound.

Shivering as my sex went liquid with longing, I pulled from his lips to offer a teasing smile tinged with love. “Where do we go, bad boy? How about multiple, mutual orgasms, and then maybe rings and vows and, one day, kids.”

I waited, hoped—all right, I prayed—for his smile to grow. Instead his expression went stone sober. “About Jada—”

“Her death wasn’t your fault.”

“I know that now, but I thought it was. I didn’t admit to knowing her, because I was afraid you’d realize I was there the night of the fire, that I hadn’t been able to save her, and that you would hate me for it.” His voice broke a little on the last words. In a tone wrought with emotion, he admitted, “I couldn’t handle the thought of you walking away.

Because I got moony, too.”

Every ounce of my panic fell away as my heart gave a furious clenching of happiness. I laughed as the tears I’d been holding back for three days wel ed in my eyes. Flippantly, I tossed out, “Well, aren’t we just a couple of love-struck puppies?”

Ryan let out his own laugh, deep and rich and wonderful. Then he sobered again. “So you’re okay with adopting?”

“Yeah, but we don’t have to.”

“The human version of you can get pregnant?”

“The demon version of me could get pregnant, but only at my command and only when the right sperm was involved.” Winking, I slipped a hand between our bodies to pet his shaft through his shorts. “Don’t think just because I’m not a succubus anymore, I plan to go easy on you, though.”

Love, tender and amazing, fil ed his eyes, and he gave me a wicked grin that warmed me from the top of my mortal head to the tips of my mortal toes. “Don’t you, either, devil girl. Because I plan to go hard on you.” Rubbing his cock against my fingers, he brushed my mouth with the most gentle of kisses. “Very hard.”

His lips grew firmer, hungry, parted my own to slip his tongue into my mouth and devour. And then he jerked me inside the house and spent the rest of the night showing me exactly how hard he planned to go on me.

SENSUAL MAGIC

Lauren Dane

As always—without my wonderful husband, Ray, none of this would be possible.

Thank you for putting up with a wife under the influence of book deadlines and the messy house that comes with it.

Thanks most righteously go to Laura Bradford, agent and friend. I’ve rarely come across people who work as hard as she does. She’s shiny and a joy to work with, even when she sends me revision notes she says herself contain “a million nitpicks.”

Thank you to Susan Swinwood for giving Nell and William a place to tell their story.

Writers live in their heads a lot, so it takes friends to keep us grounded, laughing through the rough times and kicking our behinds when we get whiny. Megan Hart—brrrrring me my hoooookah! Anya Bast—you may eat my candy house except for the peanut M&M’s. Ann Aguirre, thank you for listening to me blather daily. Renee Meyer—you’re made of awesome for more reasons than I can articulate in this space.

And to my readers—seriously, thank you each and every one.

I n the narrow alley, Nell crouched, turning her face to the stiflingly hot blast of air apparently referred to as a breeze in these parts. She shut out all other stimulus, simply waiting for the magic to come to her. Tendrils of energy hung in the air, spicy and unique to the individual who worked the spell. The taste of it wove through her system. Nell’s own magic broke it down, analyzed it, identified the owner.

It was her particular talent. Hunting. Tracking. A family trait she inherited from her mother. Not just a gift, but a calling. Who she was, as wel as what she did on behalf of her Clan.

She stood and tapped a finger against her iPod. Music filled her senses, drowning out all other noise. Dio’s “Rainbow in the Dark” kept her company as she made a few notes before tucking the pad into the back pocket of her jeans.

Mage magic. The metallic flavor identified it as other. Not the earthy tang of her own magic. Witch magic like hers was inherent and came from the earth beneath her feet, from the air around her and the water under and aboveground. Mages weren’t born with magic, they traded for it. Most of the time with the kind of creatures best left alone.

It cost a lot to trade for power. It cost in lives, energy, dark gifts and money, too. This Camarilla was on Nel ’s shit list because they were in possession of nearly a hundred thousand dollars belonging to the Owen Clan.

The Owen Clan—a circle of witches and the Clan Nell belonged to and worked for—didn’t take thefts of any kind lightly.

And what they took seriously, Nell took seriously. Frankly, this Camarilla, their little name for a group of them, seriously pissed her off. She’d spent the last two months traveling from city to city until she’d finally locked onto Las Vegas. Summer in Las Vegas was not Nel ’s idea of pleasant and she planned to take her annoyance out in someone’s hide.

A man stood just a few feet away, eyes warily scanning the area, body taut, ready to spring should it be necessary. Galen, Nell’s partner and the physical muscle to her magical strength.

“Got it?” he asked as he stalked toward her, golden skin rippling over roped muscle.

His hair was close-cropped, pale blond against his skull. He slid dark sunglasses up over his eyes, all velvet cool and alluring.

A smile canted the left corner of her mouth. “They’re here. We need to get in to see that ex-boyfriend of hers. It can’t be a coincidence she’s in the same city.”

Galen shrugged, his dark sunglasses reflecting her face. “Dunno, Nell. From all accounts she screwed him over but good. Could be a coincidence. She might not even know he’s here.”

Nell rolled her eyes. “Please. How could she not know? That bitch knows where the money is. He’s got it big-time. Of course she knows. Right now though, I have a trail, let’s follow it to see where it leads.”

Opening herself up again, she caught the scent of mage magic and let it lead her. She knew Galen would watch her back.

“Ah, there you are.” Even in the devastatingly bright light of the midday sun, she caught sight of the shine of her quarry’s aura.

She nodded in his direction and Galen moved to flank them. The mage, a low-ranking minion from the feel of his magic, stood leaning against a concrete pillar bracketing the entrance to the escalators up and over the Strip. Middle-aged, slightly balding, his vitality leaking from him and speeding his aging process. Stealing magic instead of letting it move through you tended to eat you alive.

Flipping two buttons of her shirt open, Nell shook her short curls out and approached, spilling sex with calm self-assurance. His head snapped up, his attention snagged.

Close. Nell sidled up to him, standing so near her lips touched his ear. “I have a room just across the way.” Confidently, she walked past and up the escalators, knowing he’d be right behind her. And he was.

Three hours later, fortified with some information, a shower and a change of clothes, Nell slid onto a padded bar stool and raised a brow toward the bartender.

He moved to her with a smile. “What can I get you?”

She looked him over. They sure did have some pretty people in Las Vegas. Everyone working in the bars and restaurants in the upscale casino/resorts on the Strip looked like an ad from a lifestyle magazine.

She considered the way he looked, the openness of his expression. He was young.

Twenty-three maybe. His dark hair was tipped into fashionable little spikes. A band of barbed wire was inked into his very solid biceps. His eyes were slow and very interested.

One tip of her chin and a murmured word or two and she could go in the back with him right then and fuck. She could rip his sexy low-rise jeans open and suck his cock.

Shove him to his knees and press his face into her pussy. It would be…thril ing. Unlike her, but perhaps that was why it seemed so alluring.

Or maybe it was because she felt as if she’d jump her skin. Anxiety, no, expectation coursed through her as sure as the beating of her heart. It grew every day. She’d been patient with it until the last week or two, but it rode her now until it distracted and annoyed her. She wanted to fill the uncertain space within, wanted to pull deep emotion into herself for just a short while, so her jangled senses would have something else to soothe them.

But she had the sense it would leave her feeling even emptier once it was over. Still, what did it hurt to flirt a bit? Nell leaned toward him, canting her head and sending him a seductive smile. No magic, just her. “What do you suggest?”

He leaned a hip against the counter and one arm on the bar. “Well, now, let’s see. What do you like?” He definitely flirted right back.

“I like lots of things. I like it strong.” Her resolve to just let it go began to slip from her fingers.

“Do you like it slow and building up to strong? Or hard right off?”

She laughed then, settling more comfortably into the high-backed stool. “Oh, it’s hard to say until I get to know the drink. I do like staying power. Can you give it to me?”

His bottom lip caught between very white teeth for just a moment, sending a shiver through her. “I might be able to deliver.”

Someone at the other end of the bar called a name and her pretty bartender reluctantly tore his gaze from hers. “I’ll be back with something strong with staying power.”

But before the bartender returned, Galen entered the bar and motioned her to a booth in the far corner. Reluctantly she moved to sit with him, noting the bartender’s shrug and wink.

A waitress delivered a tall glass just moments later. “Strong and hard,” she said and Nell laughed.

“Just how I like it. Send my thanks.” She put a bill on the tray and Galen ordered a beer.

“Nell, you’re not…You seem a bit uncontrolled this week. First today with the mage and now with the bartender? This isn’t you. What’s going on?”

She looked at Galen, followed the planes of masculine cheekbones and hardened jaw.