Blood Eternal (14 page)

“I don’t need your help to get a conversation with Drago.”

“You do if you want to walk away alive. You’re fortunate his sister Cybele is not vengeful.”

Lorenzo rose, set down his empty glass. “I’ll contact you when I have the woman.”

Rafe removed a black card from his pocket and slid it across the table. “Direct them here. It’s a blood auction. I’d like some privacy now. I’ll exit through the back when I’m done.” He lit a cigar. “One more thing. If you don’t go through with this deal and make it worth my time, the price on your head will go up.”

Lorenzo nodded and closed the door behind him, leaving Rafe in Blood Bar’s back office. He couldn’t stand how the Ancient walked around so high and mighty. Not for long, though. Soon enough, everyone would answer to him.

* * * *

Savannah swung her hips and hummed as she chopped red peppers. It was not yet dawn, but her vivid dreams and rumbling stomach had kept her from sleeping. Images from one of her dreams replayed of a Boston society party scene. Only instead of Ben, Luke accompanied her. Her skin had warmed beneath his soft caresses and kisses.

She shivered and exhaled a shaky breath. A dream, but her response had felt real.

Across the room, a rumpled blanket lay on an empty couch. She pictured Luke as he’d been last night, bared to the waist beneath his jacket. An empty vodka bottle sat on the wooden coffee table.

Cutting board in hand, she turned and swept the finely chopped vegetables into a pan with melted butter. Onions and peppers sizzled, and her stomach rumbled. “Shh, you’ll wake the whole house up.”

“And if the whole house is already awake?”

She jumped, and the knife and board clattered to the floor. “Luke.” She turned. “Stop sneaking up on me. And what are you doing here? You’re never awake at this time.” She reached to the stove and turned off the burner.

He shrugged. “Trouble sleeping.”

“I’m sorry.” She bit her bottom lip and pulled the pan off the burner then picked up the knife and cutting board. “I woke up starving.”

“Why would you apologize? Hunger is natural.” He turned and picked up the empty vodka bottle off the coffee table.

“I meant I’m sorry you couldn’t sleep, and about last night. I didn’t mean to push you.”

“Do not apologize for the past. You had nothing to do with Victoria’s death.”

Savannah released the breath she held. Perhaps their talk last night would give them a chance to start over. She twisted her lips. “I wanted to know more about you. Monica said—”

“Monica is a tease in more ways than one. Probably better if you do not associate with her.”

So much for getting to know him, but no way would she deal with cold, bossy Luke again. “Maybe you should have told me my boundaries before you dragged me to bars and forced me to hang out with your creepy friends. What is it about you, anyway?” She stepped closer. “What’s with your sleeping habits? Not to mention, I never see you eat. You go to clubs you don’t like and spend time with strange girls who have fangs and men who give me the willies. You don’t even seem to like these people and yet you walk within their social circle. Why?” She lifted her hand and exhaled a long breath to calm herself. “And don’t give me your excuse about obligations because I know that is bullshit. You’re not the type of man to let anyone tell you what to do.”

“And how would you know what type of man I am?” Luke asked, stepping closer.

She swallowed and lifted her chin. She hated how he wound her up then left her weak-kneed. “I just know.” A silly answer.

He rolled his shoulders, stretching his back. “Have you considered, maybe you are not meant to determine what makes me different?”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” Opening a cabinet beneath the counter, he tossed the empty vodka bottle in a trash bin. “Some answers are better left unknown.” He turned and leaned back on the countertop. His expression challenged despite the apparent resignation in his eyes. “Go on, I know there are thoughts you are holding back.”

She stepped within a few inches of him and lifted a hand to the side of his head. The temptation to take him up on his invitation was too hard to resist and yet his sudden accommodating attitude made her wary. “Your burn from yesterday is gone.”

“I heal quickly.”

“Who are you, Luke? Give me a straight answer.”

“You would not believe me if I told you.”

She caressed his lips with her fingers, hesitant to push further. Probe more, and she mightn’t like what he had to say.

“What are you doing?” He frowned.

“I don’t know.” And she didn’t, or maybe she didn’t want to think about it. She stretched her neck, inexplicably drawn to him.

He parted his lips, enticing her to taste them.

She couldn’t think, nor did she want to. And so she kissed his mouth and nibbled along his jaw, teasing and taunting.

He placed a hand against her shoulder. “You are playing with fire.”

“Burn me.”

His eyes widened as his nostrils flared slightly. And then she spun, moving with him as one. Her shoulders were crushed against the kitchen cabinets. His chest melded with hers as he kissed her with what seemed like a lifetime of pent up passion and hunger. Their tongues danced and he nipped her mouth, teasing, inviting her in. Holy hell.

“Luke.” She pulled back, stealing a breath and attempting to steady herself. He’d moved so fast.

He touched his forehead to hers. “You do not know what you ask. I am not right for you.”

She shook her head. At this moment she didn’t care who he was or what secrets he guarded. She didn’t want to hear what was right for her or not. “Kiss me,” she said.

Cupping her rear, Luke lifted and set her on the granite countertop. “You drive me insane.”

She opened her legs and clenched him around his narrow hips, pulling him closer. Sliding her hands down his smooth neck, she dug her nails into his shoulders, whimpering as she parted her legs wider. She could feel him, thick and hard against her core. A thrill shot through her.

Luke slid a hand beneath her thin camisole and lifted it over her head. The built in bra within it tugged her breasts upward, releasing them with a bounce. One brow arched, he roved over her with his intense gaze. “You are going to be the death of me, woman.” He leaned forward, laved one nipple with his tongue. Fire seared along her skin, raising goose bumps on the surface of her flesh.

Pushing her hands against the flat granite surface below, she thrust her breasts up to him, dropped her head back and moaned. Never had anyone made her feel this sexy or erotic. She bared her scars without feeling ashamed.

He kissed each with such reverence, her breath caught inside her chest.

“These have given you strength.”

His words, so close to the truth, brought tears to her eyes. Bending her head to avoid his gaze, she ran her hands down his chest. “Remove your clothes.”

For an infinite second, Luke hesitated, appearing as if he wanted to say something. Instead, he stepped back, pulled off his black jacket, pants, socks and shoes. His olive toned skin shone smooth and firm under the glow of recessed lights. A flawless statue come to life.

“And your briefs,” she said, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

“You first.”

She slid off the counter then removed her silk shorts. She wore no underwear beneath.

He released a hiss of air.

“Now you.” She swallowed, dropping her gaze. Heat suffused her cheeks as she reached to touch him. She didn’t want to compare but could not deny Luke put Ben to shame. Would he even fit? Vibrations strummed through every honed line of his intensely masculine body as he watched her, hunger evident in his expression. No turning back now.

Slipping her hand around his thickness, she glided up then down his length.

He moaned, letting his head fall back.

She rose up on tiptoes and kissed the exposed flesh of his throat. “I need you.”

Luke met her gaze, held her shoulders. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. Even aroused, he held a certain formality.

Pulling her forward, he kissed her as if starved for the taste of her, the feel of her. Digging through his hair with her fingers, she kept in rhythm with his mouth, yielded to his touch. He cupped the underside of her thighs and lifted her so she cradled him between her legs.

“So wet,” he said. Wrapping his arms around her, he shoved her against the wall, cushioned her back with his forearms.

Her hips bucked as if of their own will, the movements hurried and forceful. She rode along his length, enveloping him in her juices. “In me. Now.” Her breaths came out in whimpers.

He pulled away from nipping the tips of her breasts and ripped open a small silver package. Carefully, he smoothed a condom over his head and down his length then with one drive upward, sheathed himself within her. “Bloody hell. You are so warm. Fuck, Savannah.”

Savannah cried out as he filled her, stretching the walls of her channel to accommodate all of him.

Tensed, he stilled, giving her a chance to adjust. “You okay?”

“Yes.” She bit down on the inside of her cheek as she ground herself against him. His movements seared her as he rocked his hips back and forth, thrusting each time with more force. He braced his hands along the wall behind her.

“Luke.” Her panting grew hurried, and she squeezed her eyes shut, rolled her hips faster, harder.

“God, Savannah, I can feel you.” He pounded harder, almost to the point of pain.

She felt a cry rip from her throat and her moist core tightened around him, milking a climax from him.

Luke moaned, pulling her against him as he squeezed her body.

As the waves of ecstasy rippling through her dimmed and quiet contentment stole over her, she lay against his chest.

He caressed her hair, and the coolness of his body tempered the heat within her. The silence comforted her, made her smile, but soon seeds of doubt breached the surface of her thoughts. Tonight they’d crossed a line, leading to the most incredible of experiences. But would tonight’s pleasure become tomorrow’s pain?

13

Trickery and treachery are the practices of fools that have not the wits enough to be honest.

—Benjamin Franklin

“Luke.” Savannah smoothed a hand over several suede pillows and the sheet. It was dim in the room, but he could discern her creased brows and narrowed eyes as she realized she lay alone. He had held her asleep within his arms until his hunger grew unbearable. Even after feeding, he’d planned to sneak back onto the couch with her but could not bring himself to approach her sleeping form. Instead, he stood a short distance away, fixated on her small movements and sounds.

She shifted on the couch and pulled a thin blanket up over her shoulders. Mid afternoon sunlight streamed into the living room like transparent spears through the blinds.

Still hesitant to leave the cloak of shadows, he stepped forward. He should go back to his room. An affair would only lead them down a dangerous path. Nevertheless, he had given her fair warning she was too good for him. And sex was sex, was it not?
Liar
.

Her stomach rumbled, and she brushed a hand over her ribs and down her abdomen. Sadness and a mix of frustration filtered through him from her, but he knew nothing of her thoughts. Did she think of him as more than a meal ticket?
Idiot
. Did it matter?

Shaking her head, she rubbed her arms as if to block a chill. Luke could tell when she lifted her chin and smoothed back the blanket, thoughts of him were pushed aside. A woman accustomed to dealing with hurt, she was resourceful in her self-preservation. She reached for the portable phone on a nearby side table. Who would she call?

“Max.”

The sound of joy in her voice triggered a pang of hurt mid chest. An unusual sentiment and one not easily understood. He recalled reading of a Max in Broderick’s file. Not an ex. Her boss, a bar owner. The clock above the stove read two twenty-nine PM. A six hour difference between Rome and Boston meant this Max would be gearing up for the nighttime pub crowd.