Duncan (42 page)

Duncan paused on the front steps long enough for Emma to catch up. He took her hand as she emerged from the house, then he slid into the backseat of the SUV and pulled her in with him.

Two minutes later, they were racing through the night, heading back to the house in D.C.

“What happens now?” Emma asked, anxiously. “I mean what about all those other people, and—” She shuddered slightly. “—Grafton’s body?”

They didn’t need to worry about Phoebe’s body or those of her vampires. They were already just so much dust on the floor. No one would even notice it amidst the wreckage from the fight between Phoebe and Duncan. Emma still didn’t understand how that worked, but those questions could wait. On the other hand, Grafton’s body needed to be taken care of
now
.

“Duncan?” she said, when he didn’t answer.

“One moment,” he replied, and Emma realized he wasn’t talking to her. He was on his Bluetooth to someone, probably one of the vamps who’d stayed back at Grafton’s. He turned, pulling her against him more tightly, tucking her head into the curve of his shoulder. “Rest, Emmaline. Everything is taken care of, you’ll see. This is nothing we haven’t dealt with before.”

“So I’m not going to jail for killing a senator?” she asked drowsily, thinking it must be blood loss that was making her so tired.

Duncan chuckled. “No, you are most certainly not going to jail. What would I do without you?”

Emma yawned, then frowned, wondering if he’d done something to make her sleep.

“It’s the adrenaline,” Duncan said, reading her with his usual accuracy. “It’s a rush, but when it crashes, it crashes hard, and so do you.”

“Mmmm,” she said, snuggling against his broad chest. She felt Duncan’s lips as he kissed the top of her head, and then her eyes closed and she slept.

Chapter Thirty

“What are you reading?”

Emma managed to keep herself from jumping in surprise. Duncan moved so quietly sometimes, it was as if he appeared from out of nowhere. He kissed her bare shoulder in apology and she knew she hadn’t managed to conceal her reaction after all.

Lying on her stomach on the bed with her laptop in front of her, she sneaked a peek through the heavy fall of her hair, watching as he settled next to her and sat cross-legged to work with his own laptop. As always, his presence created a strange pressure in her chest, like there was something inside that was too big to stay there. She recognized the feeling, even though she’d never experienced it before meeting Duncan. She was in love. Hopelessly, madly in love. But he was just so . . . wonderful. Not only his looks, though sitting there with his chest bare, blond hair hanging loose over his shoulders, and nothing but a pair of loose, gray sweatpants keeping him decent, he certainly looked scrumptious enough. But it was more than that. He was a good man in every way. And he was hers. She knew that for a fact. Duncan kept his emotions tightly in check most of the time, but not with her. He loved her. He told her so all the time, and he showed her in a million different ways.

She still had trouble believing it sometimes. She’d wake up and put her hand out, expecting to find the space next to her empty, expecting to discover it was all a dream. But he was always there, always ready. She smiled to herself.

“Emma?”

She blinked, startled out of her fantasies of stripping him naked and having her wicked way with him.

Duncan grinned knowingly at her. Not bothering to wait for her answer to his earlier question, he leaned over and scanned the screen of her laptop for himself. “Want ads?” He frowned. “You don’t need a job.”

“Of course I need a job. Even if I move in here—” His teeth closed gently on her shoulder in warning. “Even though I’m
living
here with you,” she amended, and he kissed the same spot he’d bitten. “I still have expenses.”

“You can work for me then,” he said, as if that settled the matter. And as far as he was concerned, it probably did. He was so used to making all the decisions, giving orders and having everyone snap to. But Emma wasn’t one of his vampires, and she wasn’t a charity case, either.

“And what exactly would I do?” she asked skeptically.

Duncan shrugged. “The same thing you did for that limp dick congressman you worked for.”

Emma snickered at his description of Guy Coffer and asked, “You get a lot of constituent complaints from vampireland?”

“No. But I
am
the representative of vampireland to the American government, and most of that business takes place during the day. You could be my daytime face in the halls of Congress.”

Emma turned her head sharply to regard him. “Seriously?”

“Of course.Why not?”

Emma considered it. Why not indeed? She was certainly qualified to do something like that, and wouldn’t it chafe Sharon Coffer’s ass to see Emma roaming the marbled halls of the Capitol again? She smiled to herself and Duncan chuckled.

“That’s a very sinister smile you have there, Emmaline.”

“I’ll take the job.”

 “Excellent,” Duncan said, absently skimming something on his laptop, probably one of the many daily reports he received from his various employees, everyone from that vampire builder Alaric to Jackson Hissong and Miguel. “We can discuss . . . well, hello there!”

Emma actually looked over to see if someone had walked into their room, then realized he was reacting to something on his computer screen. “What is it?” she asked, stretching up and trying to read over his arm.

“Tammy Dietrich is back,” he said, leaning forward to read more closely.

Emma sat up. “How do you know?”

He indicated the report on his screen. “I’ve had someone watching her office. She showed up there early this morning, looking very furtive. Big hat and sun glasses, but it was definitely her. Apparently she heard about Max’s untimely death and decided it was safe to come home.”

Emma suppressed a flutter of fear. “What’s the latest from the police on that? Max’s death, I mean.”

“They’re calling it a home invasion gone bad, with Grafton shot and killed defending his family.”

“The police are buying that?”

Duncan snorted derisively. “None of Max’s heirs want the authorities digging too deeply into old Max’s extracurricular activities, and especially not his finances. They’ve decided to let him die a hero.”

“Bastard,” Emma said, pretending it was only anger making her stomach clench.

Duncan wasn’t fooled, of course. He gave her a searching look and said, “You did the right thing, Emma.”

“I know that. He was trying to kill you. And he
did
kill Lacey.”

“And yet his death bothers you.”

Emma frowned. “Not that he’s dead, it’s just—”

“It’s all right, Emmaline. Killing a man should never be easy.” He studied her face as if trying to decide something. “I could take it away, you know. Make you forget.”

Emma stared at him. He expected her to reject the idea outright. She could tell by the careful way he’d suggested it, by the way he was looking at her right now, waiting for her to blow up at him. But she didn’t. She hated herself for it, but she seriously considered letting him take the whole thing away—the misplaced guilt, the fear that there was something wrong with her that she could kill a man in cold blood like that, even if he did deserve it.

“I might take you up on that someday,” she said finally. “But not yet.”

Duncan smiled in relief, his eyes going that warm brown that made him appear so human. “Whenever you’re ready.”

His phone rang, which was unexpected. It was Sunday evening and he’d decided that Sundays would be theirs alone. Miguel and the others had been told not to bother him unless it was something urgent. Emma frowned, but Duncan grinned, then leaned over and picked up his cell phone without even checking caller ID.

“Sire,” he said, his tone a mixture of warmth and respect. “We are well,” he continued, obviously answering the caller’s query. “No permanent house yet, but that’s coming along. And everyone there?” He laughed, his body language relaxed and easy. Emma rarely saw Duncan like that, except with her.

“So soon?” he asked now. “Well, that’s true enough.” He listened a while longer, then said, “She’ll be coming with me.” He laughed again and added, “It should be interesting.”

Emma eyed him narrowly, since clearly he was now talking about
her
. And what would be so damn interesting?

“I look forward to it, Sire. Until then.”

He disconnected and threw the phone back onto the table.

“What was that about?” she demanded.

“That was Raphael.”

She already knew that. There was only one person Duncan called by the honorific
Sire,
because there
was
only one Sire, for Duncan anyway. “I know
that,
” she told him. “What was he calling about?”
And what was so damned funny
? she wanted to add, but didn’t.

“There’s a Vampire Council meeting in two weeks,” Duncan said, giving her a brilliant smile. “We’re going to California.”

Epilogue

Lucas Donlon, Vampire Lord, ruler of a slice of North America that the vampires called the Plains Territory, scanned the conference room from behind his sunglasses. He didn’t need the glasses. Their host for this meeting was Raphael, and unlike that lunatic Krystof, who’d hosted the last meeting of North America’s Vampire Council, Raphael would never have anything as gauche as fluorescent lighting in his conference room. But Lucas kept the glasses on anyway. It made it easier to keep his thoughts to himself, among other things. There were too many nosey vamps among his fellow vampire lords, and since they’d all sworn off dipping into each other’s minds, they were reduced to looking for visual clues. What a laugh riot that was.

And what a cheery group they were, too. Eight vampires ranged around a conference table that could easily have seated four times that many, because they didn’t trust one another enough to sit any closer. Or maybe it was that they had no
desire
to get any closer. They met once a year to discuss matters of mutual interest, but they were hardly friends. Actually, they weren’t friends at all. Lucas himself counted only one of those seated at this table as a friend, and that was Duncan. Some of the others were friendly antagonists, while one was an avowed enemy, and two were so new to the Council that Lucas had no opinion. Rajmund he at least knew from the vamp’s long service as lieutenant to the finally dead Krystof—now
there
was a vampire who’d needed to be put down. But the newest member of their august circle, Sophia, he’d never even heard of until she popped up as Lord of the Canadian Territories. Not that he gave a damn either way. As long as she kept to her borders, he’d keep to his.

“Your vote, Lucas?” Raphael’s deep voice interrupted Lucas’s contemplation of his fellow lords. Lucas didn’t move from his slouched position at the oval table. He shifted his gaze to Raphael and lowered his glasses enough to look over them.

“Affirmative,” he said flatly, then raised the glasses to cover his eyes once again. Gods willing, the others would vote the same way and they could all get the hell out of here. Not that Malibu was a bad place to be. He just didn’t like the company much.

It seemed to take forever, and he had to endure, or ignore, more than one boring speech, but eventually the others all voted to affirm Duncan as Lord of the Capital Territory. It was the only territory that required such a vote, and only because of the unique demands imposed on its lord. They’d all agreed to the condition about a century ago, even Victor who’d laughed at the time, assuming it would never become an issue. Arrogant ass that he was, he’d never understood that he
was
the issue. The rest of them had been waiting ever since then for someone to take that bastard out. Thank God it had finally happened, and thank God it was Duncan who’d done it. Lucas didn’t think anyone else could have gotten approval from the full council.

“The resolution passes,” Raphael said, stating the obvious. He stood almost immediately, seeming as eager as the rest of them to get the meeting over with. Probably more so, since it was his home that had been invaded by the lords and their security details.

Lucas unfolded himself from the chair, pushing it back from the table with the same motion. He waited while the others hurried out the door, a few stopping to congratulate Duncan, including Raj, who paused long enough to shake hands. Raj and Duncan had been lieutenants to their respective lords a very long time. Lucas supposed that created a certain familiarity with one another. And their territories shared a border, so it couldn’t hurt that they were at least friendly. Of course, his own friendship with Duncan went back much further than that.

Raphael was the last to leave, his black eyes holding Lucas’s gaze for a long moment despite the glasses until, finally, he murmured something to Duncan and disappeared between the big double doors. Duncan grinned at Lucas as he made his way around the table.

“Duncan,” Lucas said warmly. “Congratulations.”

Duncan shook the proffered hand. “You can take the damn glasses off now.”

Lucas laughed and slipped the unnecessary glasses into the pocket of his suit jacket. “I only wear them to piss off Raphael. Somebody’s gotta keep the big guy humble.”

“Too late, my friend. That ship sailed long ago.”

“Yeah, well, I do what I can. You leaving right away?”

“Tomorrow. We’ll spend the night, but there’s too much to do back in D.C. to remain any longer.”

“We, is it? I’d heard you found yourself a honey back there.”

“I could as easily have been referring to Miguel and Louis,” Duncan said mildly.

“But you weren’t. It’s all in the
we,
my friend. So, is she a sweet, old-fashioned Southern girl then? Someone to rub your feet and wash your socks?”

Duncan laughed. “Hardly, though Emma is Southern—and sweet when she chooses. She’s around somewhere. Drinking wine with Raphael’s mate Cynthia, I believe, though I should probably track her down. One shudders to think what trouble those two could get into.”