Books by Maggie Shayne (79 page)

He lifted her in his arms as he rose from the settee. "Leave you?
Leave you
? Look into my heart with yours. See what is there, and end your doubts. I would swim naked through a pool of shredded glass for you. I'd crawl on my belly over hot coals through hell itself to get to you. You are in me, woman, like a fever in my blood. All I find myself wanting these days is more of you."

He took her mouth fiercely; plundered it as she'd been longing for him to do. He knew she had. He'd heard her silent begging. Even as he took her mouth he moved with her, to the staircase and up it. By the time he reached the top he was panting, as she was. Her fingers twined and tugged at his hair. Her tongue dipped and tasted him, then wrapped around his and drew it back into her moistness. She suckled it as if it were some rare, prized fruit—something she needed in order to live.

He kicked open the bedroom door, carrying her through it, certain she only vaguely noted the candles and oil lamps that cast their flickering, amber glow over the bed he'd prepared for her. He laid her gently upon the high mattress, then straightened, allowing his gaze to devour her. He'd never thought highly of the denims today's women favored. On her, however, he found them alluring, the way they hugged her form like an outer skin. Then again, on her he thought he'd find a burlap sack alluring.

She blinked and broke eye contact, glancing around the room. The satin coverlet on which she lay was fortunate enough to receive a long, appreciative stroke from her equally soft hand. She regarded the oversize four-poster bed and the hand-tooled hard-wood, then the masses of candles and the two lamps burning scented oil. "You did all of this for me?"

He nodded, watching her face. "You approve?"

Her smile was her answer. She held his eyes prisoner as her delicate fingers began to release the buttons of her blouse. He took a step toward her. She stopped him with a small shake of her head. Eric swallowed hard, but obeyed her silent request. He stood where he was, as the fire inside him burned out of control.

She shrugged so that the blouse fell from her shoulders, and he saw the creamy-colored silk garment beneath it. She slid from the bed, releasing her button, then her zip. She pushed the denim down over her hips, down her long, bare legs, and daintily stepped out of them. She looked to him like a confection prepared especially for him to savor. Cream-colored lace touched her thighs, and the exposed mounds of her breasts. As he fought to form words she repeated his earlier ones. "You approve?"

A low growl was all he managed before he had her in his arms, crushed against him. When his hands lifted the scanty lace to cup her hips he found them bare to his touch. For him, she'd done this. To please him. To arouse him to the point of madness, he thought. He moved his hips so the aching bulge that strained his own zipper nudged her center. He brought one hand up to push the flimsy strap aside and expose her breast to his rough exploration. As his hand teased her nipple to a taut pebble hardness he spoke, moving his lips upon her throat. "You wish to drive me mad, woman? I hope you're certain you want this. I believe you've pushed me beyond the point of return."

He lifted her, hands on her silk-clad sides, and dropped her onto the bed. She watched him struggle with his shirt. He didn't hesitate, but removed his trousers and shorts, as well. He couldn't wait to be inside her luscious body. He saw her eyes focus on his erection, and he clambered onto the bed beside her, eager to mount her. Then he stopped himself. She was his for the entire night, he reminded himself. He needn't take her in haste. He could love her slowly, drive her as wild as she'd already driven him.

She reached for him, eyes glazed with passion. "Are you in such a hurry, sweet Tamara? Would you deny me the chance to savor you first?"

"You want to drink from me again?" Her words were merely sighs given form. "Do it, Eric. I am your slave tonight. Do what you want."

"What I want is to devour you. Every succulent inch of you. At my leisure. Will you lie still and allow it, I wonder?"

He knelt on the mattress beside her, and reached for her tiny foot. He lifted it, kissing a hot path around her ankle, nipping the bone with gentle teasing scrapes of his teeth, then sliding his tongue over it, tracing its shape. She breathed faster, and he moved his head. His mouth trailed very slowly up the soft flesh of her inner calf. He lifted her leg, flicking his tongue over the sensitive hollow behind her knee. She shook violently, and he glanced up to see that her eyes were closed tight
. Oh, yes, my love. Tonight I'll show you the meaning of pleasure
. His mind spoke to hers, since his mouth was too busy carrying out the promise. He nibbled and tasted and licked at her thigh, moving higher slowly and steadily so she couldn't mistake his intent. By the time he reached the heart of her, her need was so great she whimpered with each breath she released. One flick of his tongue over her, and she cried out
. Open for me, love. Give me your sweet nectar.

She did. He slipped his hands beneath her quivering buttocks and tilted her up, and then he gave her what she silently begged him for. He ravaged her with his mouth, and his teeth. He plunged into her with his tongue. Her taste intoxicated him. He shook with feeling, for her sensations were his, as well. She gasped for breath, tossing her head back and forth on the pillows, her hips writhing beneath him. He pushed her ruthlessly to the precipice, and then forced her over it. She screamed in ecstasy—and still he persisted. She shuddered uncontrollably and pushed his head away, gasping.

"No, no more—I can't—"

"Oh, but you can. Shall I show you that you can?" He lifted himself and moved until his body fully covered hers. He nudged her opening with his hardness. So wet, and still pulsing with her climax. He drove into her without warning. She shivered beneath him as he withdrew and drove again, and yet again. He gave her no time to recover from the first shattering explosion. He forced her trembling body beyond it, and toward another. He anchored her to him with his arms, forcing her acceptance of his every thrust. He covered her mouth with his, and forced his tongue inside, still coated with the taste of her. He plunged harder, faster, and he knew when her fists clenched and her nails sank into the flesh of his back that she was once again on the brink. He swallowed her cries this time when she went over, and she swallowed his, for he fell with her. His entire body shook with the force of his release. He clung to her, relaxing his body to hers.

Aftershocks of pleasure still rippled through him when he began to move inside her again.

Too soon, she thought, when she knew dawn approached. She studied his profile as he lay beside her, and she thought again she'd never known a man so handsome. No shadow of beard darkened his jawline. In fact, his face was as smooth as it had been earlier. He caught her gaze on him and smiled. "I shall have to leave you soon," he said, giving voice to her thoughts.

She snuggled closer, wishing he didn't. "Where do you go? Do you rest in—in a coffin?"

He nodded, sitting up slightly and reaching for his shirt. "Does the idea repulse you?"

"Nothing about you could ever repulse me, Eric." She sat up, too, as he poked his muscled arms into the white sleeves. She pushed his hands away when he began to button the shirt, and leaned over to button it herself. "I don't think I'd like seeing you in it, though. Why a coffin, anyway? Is it some kind of vampire tradition? Why not a bed, for God's sake?"

He laughed, tipping his head back. Tamara found her gaze glued to the corded muscles in his neck. She leaned nearer and pressed her lips to it. He stroked her hair. "It is for protection. There are more humans who know of our existence than you would believe. Most would like nothing better than to terminate it. We could sleep in vaults, or behind locked doors, I suppose. But nothing offers more protection than a coffin, which locks from the inside and has a trapdoor built beneath it."

"Trapdoor?" She finished with his last button and looked up, interested. "Are you conscious enough to use it?"

"The scent of imminent danger would rouse me even from the deepest slumber. Not much, mind you, but I only need move one finger. The button is placed in the spot where my hand rests. When I touch it the hinged mattress swings down, dumping me into a hidden room below. It springs back into place on its own. The only side effects are a few aches from being dumped bodily."

"You feel pain, then?"

"Not while I'm holding you." As he spoke he pulled her into his arms. "But that is not the answer you wanted, is it? In truth, I feel everything more keenly than a human would. Heat, cold, pain." His fingers danced over her nape. " Pleasure," he whispered close to her ear. " Pain can incapacitate me, but whatever injuries I might sustain are healed while I rest. It's a regenerative sleep, you see." His lips moved over her temple. He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks and then her mouth, thoroughly and deeply. " I believe I will be in need of it after this night."

She smiled at his little joke, but the smile died when she realized that the sky beyond the window was beginning to lighten. She looked at his heavy-lidded eyes, and she felt his growing lethargy. "You need to rest." She pulled from his embrace, reached for their clothes and handed his to him. "Come on, it'll be light soon."

"Too soon," he told her. But he took the trousers from her, and slid off the bed to put them on. "I still dislike the thought of you going back to St. Claire today."

"I know." She fastened her jeans, and walked around the bed to stand close to him. "I have to, though. And I love you more for not trying to tell me what to do. I know you don't think highly of Daniel, but just like he's wrong about you, you're wrong about him, Eric. He isn't all bad."

In the distance the sky began to turn from gray to pink. Eric's shoulders lost their usual spread. His chin wasn't as high as it had been. She put an arm around his waist, and he draped one over her shoulders. She was beginning to feel tired, as well. They descended the stairs side by side, and all too soon stood locked together in the open doorway as Eric kissed her one last time.

She fought her sleepiness as she drove back home. She thought she might have time to catch an hour or two of sleep before she'd have to force herself awake and head in to work. She'd decided to resign. She couldn't, continue working for DPI, knowing how they'd sponsored Eric's constant harassment over the years. Besides, it now was a blatant conflict of interest. She was in love with the subject of their longest-running investigation.

She let herself in, and caught her breath. Daniel, fully dressed, lay sprawled on the sofa, one arm and one leg dangling. A blanket had been tossed over him, but he'd only twisted himself up in it. His hair looked as if he'd been outside in a strong wind. When she drew nearer, the odor of stale alcohol assaulted her, and she saw the empty whiskey bottle on the floor.

"Well, finally made it home, did you?"

She caught her breath and looked up fast. Curtis lounged in the doorway that led into the huge dining room, a cup of coffee in his hand. "What are you doing here, Curt?" She glanced quickly at the clock on the wall. It was only five-forty-five.

"You've been with him all night, haven't you?"

There was something in his eyes, some coldness in his voice, that frightened her. "I'm an adult, Curt. Where I go is my business."

He straightened, came across the room and slammed the cup onto a table. "Can't you see how perverted this is? He's a frigging animal! And you're no better—acting like a bitch in heat. Christ, Tammy, if you'd needed it that bad all you had to do was ask—"

She reached him in two long strides and brought her hand across his face hard enough to rock him back on his feet. " Get out!"

"I don't think so." He stood facing her, and she saw absolute hatred in his eyes. How had she ever thought she had a true friend in this man? He blinked, though, and altered his tone of voice. "You're under some kind of spell, Tammy."

"What went on here last night?" She took a step to the side and went past him, through the dining room, knowing he'd follow. In the kitchen she got a cup of coffee for herself, and added sugar, hoping it would give her an energy boost.

"Daniel drank himself into a coma. What does it look like?" She turned, cup in hand, and frowned at him. "He called me around midnight, babbling about you and Marquand. I couldn't make sense of half of it. By the time I got here he'd drained the bottle. He was slurring something about dropping the research, or losing you forever. Is that the game plan, Tam? You use emotional blackmail on a guy who's been like a father to you? Force him to give up forty years of work, just so you can have your kinky fling?"

She felt no anger at his remarks. Only joy. "He said he was going to drop it?"

Curt's glare was once again filled with loathing. "He was too drunk to know what he was saying. But let me tell you something, Tam. I'm not going to drop it. Daniel has taught me everything he knows, so if he's ready to throw in the towel, I'll pick it up. You won't manipulate me the way you do him."

She opened her mouth to hurl a scathing reply, but saw Daniel standing weakly beyond Curt, making his way into the kitchen. "You, Curtis, will do what I tell you. I got you this far in DPI, and I can just as easily have you tossed out."

He made it to a kitchen chair, leaned on the back of it for a moment, head down, then pulled it out and sat down. "Daniel, are you okay?" She turned to pour a cup of coffee, and then set it before him. "Can I get you anything?" He looked at her for a long moment, seemingly searching for something. Finally he shook his head, and stared into the coffee cup.

"I owe her, Curtis. You know it as well as I do. We're dropping it."

"You're falling for her game, hook, line and sinker, aren't you?" Curt paced the room, shaking his head, pushing his hands through his hair. "Can't you see she's sold you out? She's joined the enemy, Daniel. She's the one we should have been studying all this time. I always told you she was more vampire than human!"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Tamara set her coffee down, spilling half of it.

"You mean to tell me you still don't know?"

"Don't know what?"

Daniel struggled to his feet, one hand massaging his forehead. "That's enough, Curtis. I think you ought to leave now. Tamara and I need to talk."

Curtis eyed Tamara narrowly. "You mark my words, Tammy. You go through with this sick liaison and we'll all end up dead. You'll have my blood on your hands." He nodded toward Daniel. "And his. You just remember that I warned you." He turned on his heel and strode away. A second later the front door slammed, rattling the windows. Daniel returned to his seat, shaking his head. "He'll get over it. Tam. Give him time."

She sat across from him and slipped her hand over his. "He's wrong, Daniel. Eric is the gentlest man I've ever known. I want..." She drew a steadying breath and plunged on. "I want you to meet him. Talk to him. I want you to see that he's not what you think."

He nodded. "I figured you would, and I suppose I have to. I don't mind telling you. Tam, I'm afraid of him. The scientist in me is excited, though. To be that close. . ." He nodded again, and went on. "The biggest part of me knows this is inevitable. I'll do my best to make my peace with him, Tam. I've been over it a million times, all night long. It boils down to one thing." He reached up and cupped her face with one hand. "I don't want to lose you." Slowly he closed his eyes. " Bringing you into this house, into my life changed everything for me, Tamara. Before that I was. . ." He opened his eyes and she was surprised to see tears brimming in them. He shook his head.

"Go on. You were what?"

"A different man. A bastard, Tamara. More of a monster than Marquand could ever be. And I'm sorry for it... sorrier than you'll ever know."

She shook her head, not certain what to say. She felt this to be the most honest moment they'd ever shared.

She finished her coffee and went to bed, and Daniel didn't wake her. In fact, she was roused by the phone, shocked when she blinked her clock into focus and saw the time. She groped for the phone when it shrilled again, and brought it to her, wondering why Daniel hadn't answered it himself.

"Tam?"

At the familiar voice, her irritation dissolved. "Jamey?" She frowned and checked the clock once more. "Why aren't you in school?"

"I cut out. Tam..." He sighed and it sounded shaky. Tamara sat up in bed. "Something's wrong."

"Are you sick?" Her alarm sent the lethargy skittering to a dark corner of her mind. "Did you get hurt or something? Do you want me to call your mom?"

"No. It's not like that, it's something else." Another shuddering sigh. "I'm not sure what it is."

"Okay, Jamey, calm down. Just tell me where you are, and—"

"I took a cab. I'm at a pay phone in Byram. I didn't want to come to the house."

At least that was normal. The rambling Victorian had always given Jamey a case of the creeps. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Hurry, Tam, or we'll be too late."

Fear made her voice soft. "Too late for what, Jamey?"

"I don't know! Just hurry, okay?"

"Okay." She replaced the receiver with shaking hands. Something was terribly wrong. She'd heard the terror in Jamey's voice. Along with her gut-twisting concern was a flare of anger. Whoever was responsible for upsetting him this much would have to answer for it. She yanked on jeans and a sweatshirt. She pulled on socks and sneakers, then a jacket. She took a hairbrush from her purse and jerked it through her hair on the way down the stairs. Daniel was just coming up from the basement.

"What is it, hon?"

"Jamey. He's all out of sorts about something. I'm going to meet him in town, buy him a burger and talk him through it." She hugged Daniel quickly, then shoved the brush back into her bag and pulled out her keys.

Five minutes later she picked Jamey up. He was tugging on the Bug's door before it came to a full stop. He climbed in, looking pale and wide-eyed. "I think I'm goin' crazy," he announced.

Her instinct was to tell him that was nonsense, but she'd felt the same way recently—too often not to take his fear seriously. "I've thought that a time or two myself, pal." She searched his young face. Eleven years old was far too young to have such serious troubles weighing on him. "Tell me about it."

"You know before, when I asked you if you knew someone named Eric?" She stiffened, but nodded. " Well, I hope you know where he lives. We have to go there."

She didn't question Jamey. She put the car in gear and moved quickly down the street. "Do you know why?"

Jamey closed, his eyes and rubbed his forehead as if it ached. "I think somebody's trying to kill him."

"My God." She pressed the accelerator to the floor, shifting rapidly.

"It's been coming in my head ever since I hung up the phone. It won't leave me alone until we go there—but it doesn't make sense."

"Why?"

"Because. . . I get the feeling he's already dead." She drove the Bug as fast as it would go, and it vibrated with the effort. Even then, it took twenty minutes to reach the tall gate at the end of Eric's driveway. Tamara almost cried out when she saw Curt's car, pulled haphazardly onto the roadside nearby. She slammed on her brakes, killed the motor, wrenched the door open. She ran to the gate with Jamey on her heels.

It had been battered with something heavy. The pretty filigree vines were bent, some broken. The gate hung open and the electronic box inside was crushed. Pieces of its insides littered the snow. A single set of footprints led over the driveway, toward the house.

"Eric!" Tamara's scream echoed in the stillness as the reality of what was happening bludgeoned her mind. A small, firm hand caught hers and tugged her through the gate.

"C'mon, Tam. Come on, hurry!"

She blinked against the tears but they continued to fall unchecked. She couldn't see where her feet were coming down as she ran headlong, guided only by that strong grip. Eric's castle like home loomed ahead, a tear-blurred mound of rough-hewn blocks. In a matter of seconds they were at the door, which stood yawning.

She swiped her eyes and hurried through. The living room looked as if a madman had raged through. Maybe that was exactly what had happened. The priceless antique furniture lay toppled. Some had been smashed. One of the needlepoint chairs had a leg missing. Vases lay in bits on the parquet floor. Heavy, marble-topped tables lay like fallen trees.

She stumbled almost blindly onward, through the formal dining room, where a candelabra had been hurled through a window, into the kitchen where cupboard doors had been ripped from their hinges. The sounds of breaking glass reached her and she turned, glimpsing the door she hadn't noticed. It hung open wide with a stairway that could only lead to the cellar. The sounds came from the darkness below, and a hand of ice choked her. She had no idea where Eric's coffin was, but if she'd had to hazard a guess she would have guessed the cellar. She approached the door.