Authors: Linda Mercury
Dracula's Secret (8 page)
Chapter 15
Her shudder opened a floodgate of heat to his penis. Testing her reactions, he smoothed the glove over his hand one more time, stroking slowly, teasingly. She wetted the bow of her top lip with her tongue, the tips of her fangs showing.
Her gaze lifted to his face. Lance let the corner of his mouth lift when she touched the side of her breast. She teased him back as she slid her hand down her waist and finished at her hip.
Satisfaction at her responsiveness poured into his veins and made his crotch twitch and swell. Danger excited him. How many respectable women had he dated before discovering it? Ironic how those poor ladies had thought a former military chaplain would be a safe, undemanding lover. He put his hand in his pocket, drawing attention to his arousal.
Her nostrils flared and she flushed.
With the extra color, her bearing transformed from rigid control to sensuality. He wanted to see her lying on his bed, her face relaxed, her tight body limp from overwhelming pleasure.
Their gazes met. He could tell she read his intentions when she sucked in a breath.
He had to have her. More than that, he needed her. Her darkness calmed the exhausting force that drove him.
Lance ambled forward, his gaze locked on her lips. He clasped her hand, caressing his thumb over the thin skin of her wrist. Her eyes stayed on him as he wrapped his other hand around her neck and, pulling her to him, touched his lips to hers. Her mouth surprised him. Such a starkly beautiful woman shouldn't be so soft and plush.
For a few wild seconds, she stared into his eyes, seeming to assess his sincerity.
Then, slowly, deliberately, she closed her eyelids. Her hands wrapped around his back and held on as she opened her mouth and let him in.
He kissed her again and again, learning her mouth. Vampires didn't taste of old blood or decay. Valerie, at least, tasted resinous and earthy, like rosemary. Like sex outdoors on a blanket under young redwood trees.
Their lips separated just far enough for him to look into her heavy-lidded hazel eyes. The hungry look on her face made his cock swell even harder until he ached to be inside of her.
She scratched at his nipples with her short nails. He hissed as he pressed into her touch.
“More,” she whispered.
He clasped her chin with one hand. Clasping the other around her waist, he pushed her against a wall. Lance smiled as her eyes widened. He had his own gifts of strength.
Grabbing her ass, he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his hips and pushed her hot crotch against his thumping erection. Their teeth clicked in a fierce kiss.
His hands kneaded the firm flesh of her bottom. Even through her pants he felt her muscles flex and quiver. She growled and slid her hands under his leather jacket. His next powerful thrust had her raking her nails down his back.
Lance offered no quarter. Neither did she. They fought for dominance with kisses.
She couldn't overpower him. He met her, strength for strength, stroke for stroke, then matched her, and finally controlled her.
They broke apart. As they stared into each other's eyes, he panted into her mouth. She took the unnecessary air into her lungs.
Vampires didn't breathe, except to speak or scent. Oxygen, like alcohol in humans, made them euphoric, light-headed, and uninhibited. The undead hated being out of control. Her pupils dilated until the barest ring of hazel held. What would she do?
Valerie dug her hands into his hair. “More.”
Lance laughed and complied.
She doubled the speed of her strokes against him. He kept pace until their hips pounded like thunder in the night.
The orgasm surprised them both. She screamed into the wet night air as she thrashed against his chest.
One of the unconscious journalists groaned, shattering the intimacy.
“There's a motel down the street,” Lance ground out when Valerie opened her eyes.
“Yes.”
He entwined their fingers together and tugged her toward the seedy hotel.
Chapter 16
Too many emotions ruled Valerie as she gripped Lance's firm, leather-clad hand. Arousal, protectiveness, excitement, and something yet unnamed quivered up and down her spine. His solid, muscular body and his hot clove scent made her light-headed. Her logical, strategic mind flailed in the fog. An older, more fearless part of her, the part related to her bold, wild-hearted mother, stepped forward for the first time since Radu had claimed Ilona.
When they reached the hotel, she whipped out a key. “I was staying here anyway.” She led him toward a first-story room around the back of the building.
As the door clicked open, she flung him onto the king-sized bed. They needed to be on a horizontal surface right now. Hangers rattled on their exposed bar as the headboard banged against the wall.
Lance laughed as he landed on the randomly colored bedspread. His smile transformed his face from severe to boyishly cheery in a heartbeat. She couldn't help but chuckle as he bounced lightly on the slippery cover.
“C'mere, you sexy thing.” He curled his finger to her, beckoning and delicious.
Time stretched as they grinned at each other. An indescribable, nearly audible click of perfect attunement resounded in her head. Astonishing. When she was with him, she had a sense of humor.
They would not only be amazing lovers; this would be a friendship for the ages. Together, they were more than two sinners in search of redemption. They were an unbeatable team. Was it truly possible?
His light gave her hope and softened her guilt. Perhaps she was forgivable. The room, previously smelling of disinfectant and thin blankets, now transformed into a steamy and exotic lair.
A hot eagerness filled her chest. Unable to contain herself, Valerie grabbed two fistfuls of his jacket and pulled herself on top of his chest. Their mouths met. He tasted like spice, like passion, like sweet, hot blood.
She could live off his kisses. They filled her more than revenge, than penance, even more than anger.
His mouth threatened everything she was.
Valerie shuddered. Who would she be without those things? She needed to take back control before she completely lost herself. She nipped at his lower lip, her teeth hard and aggressive.
He didn't fight, but he didn't surrender, either. Instead of meeting force with force, his kiss held out against her aggression like a strong tower ignoring the temporary battering of a storm. He drew the tip of her tongue into his mouth. She moaned hard enough to shake her entire body.
The warm sucking sent a delicious languor over her. As he framed her cheeks with those strong hands still wrapped in leather, Valerie's muscles turn from icy and rigid to warm and pliant.
They touched lips again, taking their time. Slow, wet kisses pulled at her nethers. He ran the velvet of his lips over her fangs. Electric shocks fired up her skull. He buried his face in her neck and bit at her veins even as he held her still.
Valerie turned her head into his hand. She nipped at Lance's glove when he licked the small sting of his blunt teeth away. If she could hurry him, she'd keep her self-identity intact. He wouldn't look inside of her and see any more of what she hid.
Lance rolled her underneath him, pinning her to the bed. He luxuriously stretched to take off his gloves, not removing his mouth from her collarbone. She leaned back and captured a wrist with a tight grip.
Hooking a fang around a fold in the leather covering his middle finger, Valerie tugged and sucked until his glove peeled off of him. Her mouth undressed his hand in a slow striptease. She heard his heart accelerate as the glove surrendered to her oral prowess. After all, a vampire learned a few things about using her mouth after a few decades.
She tossed the glove onto the bed. He caressed her lips with the thumb of his now-naked hand. Valerie stifled a moan at the first feel of his bare skin. His heat and purity flowed through her like a river of lava. How could a mortal be as fiery as one of the Ardent Ones, those who stayed Above?
With his other hand, Lance touched the top button of her coat. “Let's get you out of these wet clothes,” he murmured in her ear. His words were right, but his voice sounded as though he were talking through a dark tunnel.
A vague sense of something missing sent a whisper through her fog of arousal.
Can't I do better than a quick and sleazy one-night fuck in a run-down motel? Don't we both deserve better than this? If I'm going to risk everything, let's do this right.
Startled, Valerie pulled back. Bereft of his warmth, shivers trembled over her lips. She leaned in and touched their foreheads together, trying to master the unexpected emotion. This was business, nothing more.
She shouldn't lie to herself.
“Something wrong?” Lance moved his hands soothingly over her back.
The shivers subsided. “Are we in a hurry?” she asked simply. Time stretched before her like taffy. If he withdrew now, there would be no future for them. No friendship, no sex, no warmth, nothing. Valerie would go her way, he'd go his. She'd kill Radu, and keep running to find peace of mind until she ate garlic just to end everything.
He'd get killed by his opponents. The world would be a poorer place.
Lance's eyes warmed even further.
“I have all the time in the world,” he answered.
She licked her upper lip and wrapped their fingers together. His palm was warm, strong, and calloused. The feel of the rough skin encouraged her. These were the hands of a courageous man, not someone untested by suffering. Those hands on her breasts would feel amazing.
She needed to get away from the temptation of the bed. “Let's go outside.” Valerie held out her hand and pulled him to his feet.
Lance grabbed his discarded glove as he rose. He grinned at her, a little goofy, like a modern teenager. “I do like a girl who lets me hold hands on the first date.”
Valerie understood the urge to giggle.
She told herself that she was letting Radu's spies know right where their prey had landed.
Yeah. Sure. Just what she intended.
Chapter 17
“I have all the time in the world,” Lance said.
For her, he did.
When she smiled, she looked like a child introduced to violence at a too-young age. The woman had stories underneath that vampiric mask. He wanted all of them. He would have all of them.
Tonight, she had saved his life, spared the life of a delinquent, and she had not gone through with the assassination of Radu Tepes.
Whatever sins she had on her, underneath, she wanted to do right. Lance smiled at her tenderly. Saving a vampire would be the perfect crown to his checkered career.
Lance let her pull him off the bed and out of the shabby hotel room. The night had turned cold once the rain had stopped. His breath steamed in front of them.
He conveniently forgot that she might want his stories, too. His dreams were no one else's business.
Once outside, the vampiress gestured to a covered automobile that hid in the shadows.
“Would you like a ride?” she asked, her lips still swollen and her voice still husky from their desire. She whipped the canvaslike material off and twirled it like a matador's cape. Not a drop of water hit Lance, the car, or her. Show-off, he thought.
Then sheer vehicular lust overwhelmed everything. The black Shelby Mustang crouched on the pavement like a rare predator. This sweet machine was the pinnacle of all muscle cars, the most legendary of engines combined with perfect design. And he was about to get in it. There was no way he was going to sleep just yet.
“She's a '67?” He touched respectful fingers to the glossy black paint over the hood. The white Le Mans stripes decorating the hood shimmered in the outdoor lights of the motel.
“'66.” The smooth skin around her eyes crinkled, giving her a mischievous air. She was planning something. With a sly smile, she said, “You want to drive her?”
“You would let me behind your wheel?” He slapped his hand over his heart and staggered, feigning a heart attack.
A creaky, unpracticed laugh escaped from the vampire. What a beautiful noise.
She pulled out keys, complete with a battered leather Mustang fob, and dangled them in front of him. They chimed like church bells in the dark. Her smirk revealed still-extended, wickedly delicious fangs.
His mouth watered at the thought of those 350 vintage horses under his fingers waiting for his command. A vague memory from his youth told him the Shelby could go from zero to sixty in 4.5 seconds. This was every car-crazy boy's fantasy, hot babe included, right here in front of him.
“No need to ask me twice.” He snatched the jingling keys from her hand. Their eyes met.
Watchfulness swam in those dark depths. She was testing him. His awareness slid up a notch. The wrong move from him and she'd take that gorgeous car and disappear from his life.
That would suck.
So. No wrong moves.
Like his mama taught him, Lance unlocked the passenger door. Like a gentleman in a tuxedo, he gestured toward the pristine interior. Valerie gracefully descended into the seat and he gently closed the car door.
She reached across and pulled the lock on the driver's side. So far, so good.
Getting in to the leather seat, he ran his hands reverently over the instrument panel before adjusting the seat and the mirrors. He tugged at the waist-only seat belt. It stuck a little before unspooling. Obviously hadn't been used much. Once he clicked the buckle, he stretched his fingers. Time to practice everything he'd ever learned about restraint.
“She's a beauty. Does she have a name?” he asked.
“Ilona,” Valerie replied, her head lowered as she fastened her own seat belt.
He cocked an eyebrow. Ilona. Dracula's wife, famous for her betrayal and death at her husband's hands. Interesting. What would cause a woman to embrace that story?
“Are you going to drive her or just fondle her?” She winked, but her purring challenge couldn't have been any clearer than a glove across the face.
Lance winked back at the waiting woman. Smooth as feathers, the key slid in the ignition. After an awed moment listening to the engine's dangerous song, Lance shifted and backed out. For a moment, he let the car cling to the safety of the quiet lot, then turned the wheel and applied gas with a whisper touch.
Ilona rewarded his care with a pleased growl. He sensed Valerie's smile. A quick peek over at the passenger seat showed her fingers slowly unclenching from the door handle.
Lance's hand hovered over the radio. “May I?”
“Sure.”
Massive Attack's low and throbbing bass came out of the speakers. Lance turned the music down until it matched the beat of the engine, letting the sound wrap them in a cocoon of dark and dreamy sensuality.
He took them out of the city and into the surrounding darkened farmland and forest. Portland's light pollution fell behind them as they plunged into the dark, dark night. Ilona ate up the miles toward Lance's destinationâa park carved into the side of the bluff overlooking the city and the valley below.
Glancing over, he smiled when he saw Valerie's nose crinkled in pleasure. Their gaze held for a second. She broke first, turning away to watch the trees fly by.
The Shelby and he were a team, taking Valerie through both the tight curves and wide sweepers with confidence and restraint. Lance refused to scream the tires, even drunk as he was with the joy of driving something so fast and powerful. His hands caressed the car's controls.
He took them higher. Up they climbed to the crest of the low mountain to the park's gravel lot. Turning off the car, he opened the door, walked around the hood, and opened the passenger door. She awkwardly put her cool palm in his and let him help her out of the seat.
“Over here. You'll get a great view.” He led her to the low stone fence that circled the parking lot. “Have a seat.” Touching the small of her back with his fingertips, he sat on the wall on her right. Time to start digging into her past.
“What brings you to Portland?” He sent his opening shot over her bow.
She shifted on the wall. Lance thought she would refuse to answer, then her mouth relaxed again.
“The conference brings me to town,” she answered.
The polite blandness of her tone was meant to discourage. After all, who would reveal their innermost thoughts, especially illegal ones, to someone they had just met? Lance pressed her anyway.
“Are you going to reveal your presence? The world thinks there are only three vampires left.”
She shook her head. “I like my anonymity.”
The vampire tilted a flirtatious look from the corner of her eyes. “How long have you lived here?”
Ah! A counteroffensive. Lance disregarded it.
“This year's conference should be particularly exciting,” he probed. “I understand that Radu Tepes is going to make a major announcement.”
Faster than a snake, she blinked at the other vampire's name. Lance saw the movement anyway. Solid confirmation that she didn't like the man. He shifted tactics. He would get her to tell him what she was doing.
“Why did you say the tiger smelled like him?” Lance asked.
“Why did you let those werewolves in?” She leaned back, and propped herself with her arms on the fence top behind her. Her smirk said, “Don't teach your grandmother to suck eggs, kid.”
This was going nowhere fast. Maybe she knew an interrogation when she saw one.
Lance recalculated his strategy. Perhaps she would respond to him answering her question. He matched her posture, leaning back and sprawling his legs out. The vampire licked her lips. After a quick glance at his crotch, she dragged her gaze back to his face.
“Well?” she asked.
“It was the right thing to do.”
She hinged forward at the hips and rested her elbows on her knees. “Of course it was.” Her wet hair rustled against her gold dragon as she looked over her shoulder.
If Lance was feeling charitable, he would call the expression on her face “cynical.” His earlier exhilaration drained away, leaving him tired and aching.
“I have nothing to lose. The shelter runs out of money”âhe checked his watchâ“in nine hours. All this fury over a meaningless action.”
Her head drooped as she studied the rocks beneath her shoes. “It has meaning.” Absently, she touched a sparkling earlobe.
“One night's sleep, then everyone's back on the street.” Lance shook his head, hiding his resignation under his matter-of-fact tone. “Doesn't matter.”
Lance heard her take a harsh breath.
“No. It matters so much that Radu tried to kill you tonight,” Valerie started, then paused. The moon gilded them in glimmering silver as she rotated to straddle the rock fence.
Lance's scalp tingled. This was important. “How can you be so certain of that?”
She tapped the side of her nose. “That tiger
reeked
.”
reeked
.”
“You know him that well?”
“Well enough to know that he won't stop until he gets what he wants. He wants you out of his way.” A cold pale hand touched his knee. “I will help you if you help me.”
“Oh?” He studied her. So many undercurrents with this woman.
“I have unfinished business with him. If I become your bodyguard, we can kill two birds with one bullet.”
Killing two birds. Instead of answering, Lance played for time. As though his hand moved without his conscious will, it reached over and stroked her throat. She shivered when he traced the curled rim of her ear and touched the large diamonds.
Fascinated by her responses, he kept touching her. A single finger down the side of her jaw to her pointed chin made her close her eyes and clench the stone hard enough to crack the granite. She tipped her face to the moon and swallowed as he ran that finger down her pale throat to the pit of her neck.
“And what exactly would my bodyguard do?” he murmured.
She turned, her face a whisper away from his.
“I'd never leave your side. Everywhere you go, I go. I sip from your cup. I eat from your plate. You'll never be without me.”
Lance's belly tensed. There was more to her words than either of them wanted to acknowledge.
He slipped his hand under her jacket and shirt. The cool bare skin of her back goose-pimpled under his touch. His hands explored the tender skin of her quivering belly. This woman was like no other. His carefully banked arousal woke and demanded they finish what they started in that bed.
She continued, unknowing of his thoughts. “And when he makes his move on you, I make my move on him.”
Lance's ardor chilled. So much for distraction. On the surface, she wanted him to tempt the CCC into carelessness.
Under the surface, she meant to kill the famous vampire. Lance's shoulders tensed as though she was about to whip out a pistol and go hunting right now.
Being involved in a murder, even tangentially, would destroy his chance at atoning for his sins, something Lance had worked for since he was eighteen. Anger heated him back up.
Even worse, assassinating Radu Tepes would start a world-wide revolt. The high-profile vampire was personally a jerk, but he was also a symbol of PNC dreams and aspirations to wealth, prestige, and political power.
“Killing him would be a disaster,” Lance bit out.
“Killing him would end a blight on the earth,” she retorted.
Lance looked at her from beneath lowered lids. “Do I have to spell it out?
“Even if you kill him in secret, you'll be found. The death of a vampire, especially Tepes, will call out an international manhunt. Every PNC on the planet will be questioned. Most will be detained. There will be no due process, there will be no understanding of the nonviolent species, there will be torment, pain, and lynchings unseen since the depths of Jim Crow.”
At his words, she uncoiled herself from the wall and paced, her face resembling carved marble in the moonlight. Her perfect posture stiffened even more and her upper lip twitched upward.
Ruthlessly, he continued. “First, you'll make a martyr of him. Then you will start a massacre. No.” He shook his head. “There will be war.” He described the conflict he saw in his head.
The surviving PNCs would band together to object to mob justice. They would unleash their fury at not being able to marry whom they wanted, to being second-class citizens.
The humans would push back, right into a fully blown race war that left the world's human population decimated and PNCs demonstrating the teeth of their own justice. He would be ripped to shreds by the very werewolves he took in.
Lance shook himself free of the scenario he described. “All that will come true,” he continued. “If you want to stop Tepes, he must be disgraced.”
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