Authors: Allie Gail
Fire and Ash
Immortal Touch Series - Book Two
By Allie Gail
Copyright September 2013 Allie Gail
Cover Design by Laura Shinn
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any printed or electronic form without express written permission from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Though many of the cities and towns actually exist, they are used in a fictitious manner for purposes of this work. All characters are works of fiction and any names or characteristics similar to any person past, present or future are coincidental.
Dedicated to my faithful readers, and to the special men in my life - Howie, Lee, Noah and Jack. I love you all.
never should’ve had that last margarita.
It took Paisley three
clumsy tries before the keycard cooperated enough to click open the door to room 1804. Apparently the stupid cards didn’t work so hot when you slid them in backwards, which wouldn’t have been an issue if her vision wasn’t so damn fuzzy. But those frosty key lime margaritas were hard to pass up, especially when everyone in the band was throwing back drink after drink, and technically this counted as something of a vacation even if she was only here for a three day weekend.
Three days in paradise with an aspiring
rock star. Did it get any better? Well, yeah, actually it
get better. Rick could invite her back with him when he returned in March for his spring break gig. Crash for Glory beat out nine other bands who’d landed auditions for the six week engagement…no big surprise there. They were seriously good. Rick Radcliffe’s vocals were the first thing that grabbed her attention last week, the second thing being that he kinda resembled that lead singer from 12 Stones…what was his name? Paul something-or-other. McCoy…Paul McCoy, that was it. Oh man, was he ever
It was the
transparent blouse and pushup bra she’d been wearing that first grabbed
attention. Once again, the twins came through for her. One phone number swap later and next thing she knew, she was enjoying a long weekend at the beach with a post-grunge rocker whose voice made her melt like a Popsicle. Never mind that it was only the tail end of January and offseason - they wouldn’t be leaving the room much anyway, if she had anything to say about it.
Right now he was out in the courtyard with the band, chasing
the mixed drinks they’d downed at the restaurant with a few beers. Well, they had every right to celebrate their triumph. Personally she’d already had way too much to drink and the sexy stiletto heels she’d “borrowed” from her dorm roommate were making her dogs bark. Hopefully Madison wouldn’t notice they were gone. She was already on her roommate’s shit list for bailing on her bridal shower to come here instead. And
, so in all good conscience she probably should have gone to Madison’s stuffy old shower instead, but her friend didn’t have any reason to get so pissed off about it. Wouldn’t she have done the same thing in her situation? Besides, Paisley sent the obligatory gift, a gorgeous ensemble from Victoria’s Secret that she was beginning to wish she’d kept for herself if Madison was going to act like such a whiny bitch.
’ve loved her in the lacy white teddy, she mused while dropping her purse and keycard on the kitchenette counter next to an unopened case of beer. Making a beeline for the suite’s bedroom, she flopped face first on the soft bed before kicking off the offending heels. The bedspread had that familiar hotel smell, a pleasant mix of bleach and ocean air. It occurred to her that she was probably getting sand on the covers, but she was too blitzed to care much. Hey, a little sand never hurt anyone.
Her eyes had
only been closed for about two minutes when the mattress sagged beside her, and she opened them to see Rick sitting there.
“Thought you were gonna stay
out with the guys for a while,” she mumbled sleepily.
“Changed my mind.” He rolled her over and
leaned in to give her bottom lip a provocative bite. “Started thinking about you up here all alone in bed without me.”
“I’m not alone now
, am I?” She slipped a hand behind his neck and ruffled the thick caramel-colored hair that he tended to mousse into stiff constraint. “Mm…you smell different. That a new cologne?”
“You don’t like it?” He
moved his lips down to nibble playfully at her neck.
“No, I like it.
I like it a lot. Smells…expensive.” She wondered if he’d bought it just for her. The very idea put a complacent smile on her face. If she played her cards right, she could have this guy wrapped around her finger in no time.
Straight to Heaven.
” He undid the top button of her pink gingham shirt and pushed the material to one side so he could access her shoulder. His light kisses there caused her to shiver, and she giggled.
it, that tickles!”
Nope. No stopping now.” He nipped her gently, then licked her collarbone.
” She inhaled sharply. “That feels
.” It felt even better when he began sucking gently on the sweet spot between her neck and shoulder. His mouth was so warm, and the feel of his tongue occasionally flicking her skin gave her goose bumps. She was gonna have one hell of a hickey tomorrow.
Not that she cared.
“You like that?” he murmured against her neck.
it? That had to be the dumbest question anyone ever asked. “Don’t stop,” she begged, her fingers clenching his spiky hair.
I wasn’t planning on it.” His low voice was enticing, seductive, and she gasped when his teeth grazed her and his lips closed around her skin to draw it tautly into his mouth. It almost hurt, but in a good way. A
good way. God, she was gonna be wearing scarves and turtlenecks for a week…maybe longer.
When he finally
did stop, she impatiently tried to pull his head back to her shoulder. “Where you think you’re goin’, mister?”
at her unabashed enthusiasm, he weaseled out of her grip to slide off the edge of the bed where he stood looking down at her, eyes sparkling brightly in the dimly lit room. He was hot, so incredibly hot, and he was all
For the weekend, anyway…and hopefully beyond that, if things worked in her favor.
She expected him to start
peeling off his clothes. Instead, he reached down to lift her into his arms and began walking out of the bedroom with her as if she weighed nothing.
’re you doin’?” she giggled again. Actually she loved this frisky side of him. Being carried in his arms was fabulously romantic - she’d never realized before just how strong he was. It was a major turn-on.
have something to show you.” He bent his knees slightly so one hand could reach the lock on the sliding glass door, then kicked it open with a foot. Although it was unseasonably warm for late January even in Florida, the sea breeze coming in off the Gulf of Mexico chilled her skin.
“I’ve already seen the view
from the balcony,” she informed him. Her neck still felt wet from his kisses and she tried to dry it with the collar of her shirt.
But her shirt was wet, too.
Looking down, she was perplexed to see a damp red stain spreading across the pink and white gingham. It looked…well, it sort of looked like…
…?” Her voice faltered uncertainly.
” The unfamiliar deep voice breathing into her ear no longer belonged to Rick.
And neither did t
he sky blue eyes that gleamed down at her.
The arms let go. And t
he last thought that went through Paisley Coventry’s mind before her body shattered on the hard sand eighteen floors below was that she should have gone to the bridal shower instead.
“You’re not holding it the way I showed you, love. Relax your grip on the shaft. Your fingers are too tense.”
The female giggles at the unintentional innuendo, and a shrill squawk
originates from the cello between her knees. “First time you ever said that to me,” she teases.
The male chuckles. “Little degenerate. I thought you wanted to learn. Now are you going to pay attention to the instructor or must he chastise you?”
“Watch it, butterfly. I can use that bow against your backside if you don’t behave.”
“Well, we certainly wouldn’t want that, now would we?”
“Loosen up your fingers, Eva. And why do you keep moving your thumb? Hold it right here, on the frog. Don’t move it.”
“Why is it called a frog anyway?”
“I have no idea, nor does it matter. Are you ready to try again?”
Tristan Kendall relinquished his mental hold on the absurdly domestic scene inside the chalet, opening his pale gray eyes with a wry smile. From the vantage point of their front walk, the female vampire’s formerly elusive aura was now crystal clear. Miss Eva Spencer…unauthorized new member of the most privileged and confidential syndicate in the world. She was now an immortal. And it was his responsibility to find out just who the hell had inducted her without their elder’s permission.
He rapped on the door, adjusting his tie once more while waiting patiently
and hoping it wasn’t the male he’d have to deal with first. There was a sound of light footsteps -
- and he heard her voice calling out, “Did you order anything from town, Jules?” He didn’t catch the response.
The door opened then, and before he
even had a chance to open his mouth the striking redhead was chirping brightly, “Hey, you!” Almost immediately her clear green eyes registered surprise. Obviously she was expecting someone else.
,” he replied blithely.
“Oh…sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
She grinned good-naturedly.
all right. Technically, I am.” He mirrored her smile with one of his own, knowing she would have no reason for apprehension. His physical attributes were non-threatening…he had a benign, mellow appearance that put people instantly at ease. Actually he’d been told more than once that he looked like someone who belonged in the Bahamas, smoking pot and thrumming on bongos. Maybe it was the dreadlocks.
“So…what can I do for you?”
“You are Eva Spencer, correct?”
Yes…yes, I am.”
I realize this may seem a bit presumptuous, but do you suppose we might speak inside for a moment?”
She frowned slightly, all traces of humor
disappearing. “Do I know you?”
“Well, we do share some of the same interests.” It was a lame attempt at a joke, but she only looked confused.
Could she really not tell? It was easy enough to identify another vampire - their blood didn’t give off the same
distinct smell that mortal blood did - but maybe she wasn’t aware of that yet. “Common interests. You know…”
“No. I don’t know.”
“I’ve been sent as a representative…”
“No, thanks.” She made a move to close the door
, apparently mistaking him for either a salesman or political candidate.
God’s sake. “Miss Spencer, I know what you are!” There, that ought to do it.
did it, all right. She backed slowly away from him, fear etched all over her face. “Julian!” she yelled over her shoulder, never taking her eyes off him.
He stepped over the threshold,
approaching her with hands outstretched in an effort to reassure her. “Wait…please don’t misunderstand…I haven’t come here to cause you any…”
“What is it, darling?”
Emerging from the opposite end of the house, the male caught sight of the stranger in his living room and, assessing the situation quickly, calmly positioned himself between Eva and the stranger. His expression remained placid but there was suspicion in his dark eyes. “Can we help you with something, mate?”
“I apologize if I frightened you…” Tristan began, then stopped short
as something occurred to him. The man - the slender blond in front of him - he had no discernable blood scent. He too was an immortal, most likely the source of young Eva’s conversion. And yet he had somehow escaped detection. “You’re one as well,” he declared, shifting his gaze nervously back and forth between the two.