Heart of a Warrior (7 page)

“Not really. It’s been a very long time for me.” He shrugged.

Annie sat next to him on the bed.

“Who were you, Ivan, before?” Her blue gaze bored into his until he had to look away.

“Just a man. A soldier, a husband, a father.” He rubbed his eyes with his hand. God, he was tired.

“I wanted a family, Ivan. At least you had that for a while.” She touched his hand as it rested on the bed.

He tried to picture his family. In another life, he’d had a wife and two sons. Their faces were long-forgotten, along with their names. It had been easier to forget, to let it all just slip away, than to live an eternity with the pain.

“You’re going to have to learn how to feed, Annie. I may not be around…” Ivan didn’t want her dependent on him, did he?

“Do I have to kill?” Annie looked at her hands twisting together in her lap.

“No, but it’s going to be extremely hard for you to control yourself if you’ve not had much to eat. And the experience is very different from feeding on another vampire.” He shook his head, trying to explain it. “It takes you over, the bloodlust, the pounding of their heartbeats.”

“But I can try, can’t I? I can do it. I can have control.”

“Maybe. We’ll have to see.” He reached out and pulled her to him. “Feed from me a little to take the edge off. That way, you might be able to control it better.” If it would make her feel better, it was worth a try. Perhaps with practice she’d gain the kind of control it would take to stop.

“Your arm?” She touched his forearm with her fingertips.

He pulled her close and kissed her. “My neck, please, while we make love again.”

Lowering himself beside her, he bent his head to the side. She found his neck and the pulse that seemed to beat only for her.

She fed as they made love. At last, he pulled her off when she’d taken enough. He knew he’d have to eat soon, also. With all the sex they’d been having depleting his reserves of energy, he felt weaker than he had in a long time. Usually, he could last five days, a week if he had to, before he gave in to the uncontrollable urge to feast.

Ivan reached across and picked up the phone next to the bed.

“How about I order Italian? They have a new driver now.” He gave her a hungry grin.

“I wouldn’t mind a little Chinese.”

“Forget it. Their delivery guy is nearly ninety. Too old.” He made a face as he punched a button on the phone.

“Fine. Italian. As long as he doesn’t taste like garlic. I hate garlic.”

“Hello? Yes, I’d like to place an order for delivery.”

— • —

“This is your room, bath is that door. I’m down the hall.” Nic pointed to show Fiona the room as he stood in the hall. She opened the door and peered in.

“Great. Now, do you have something I can sleep in?” She tilted her head and looked up at him.

“Don’t want to sleep naked?” His lips curled up in a grin.

“I think I’ve had enough naked for tonight, Nic. A T-shirt will do just fine.” She flung her hand out and swatted his muscled stomach as she passed him.

“Yeah. One T-shirt coming right up.” He wanted her to touch him again, somewhere south of his stomach. Somewhere hard.

“Oh, and is there a spare toothbrush in the bathroom?” She sat on the edge of the bed. Damn, she looked so good. The urge to push her backward, pull the clothes off her, and bury himself deep inside her made his cock twitch.
Whoa. Down, boy.
She’s a self-proclaimed, dyed-in-the-wool,
gen-u-wine
virgin. Definitely off-limits. Against company policy.

“Should be, check the cabinets. I think you’ll find shampoo, soap, toothpaste, and a couple of new toothbrushes.” He leaned against the door frame to keep his distance.

“Bring a lot of virgins home?” She ran her hand over the quilt covering the bed. Was it his imagination playing games, or did she just invite him to sit next to her?

“Absolutely not.” He frowned. “The stuff is left over from when my brother, Zeke, was here a couple of months ago helping me to remodel the place.”

“You did a great job.” She looked around. “Zeke? Let me guess. Another Biblical name. For Ezekiel?”

“Right.” He stood there unwilling to say more, but it would be so easy to talk to her, tell her everything. She was dangerous.

“How about that T-shirt?”

“Right.” He hurried off to his room. Pulling open a drawer of his dresser, he sorted through the shirts trying to find one for her. Skipping all the shirts with beer logos on the front, he settled on his college football jersey and hurried back to her room.

“Try this.” He held it out to her. Fiona took the folded shirt from him. She opened it and held it against her body. It fell almost to her knees.

“This works. Alabama, huh? I didn’t picture you as a Southern boy.” She grinned at him as he stood in the door unable to take his eyes off her.

“But I am. Couldn’t you tell?” He revived the Southern drawl he’d worked hard to get rid of. “I thought my good manners gave me away.”

“Don’t you dare call me ma’am again.” She wagged her finger at him and he laughed.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. You’d probably kick my butt.”

“Don’t doubt it, Nic.” Fiona smirked and tossed her head. She cleared her throat, folded her arms, and waited. “This is your cue to politely leave, like a good Southern gentleman,” she stage-whispered.

“Yes, ma’am.” His gaze held hers. Then it dropped to her lips. He wanted to press his mouth against hers. If she took just a step toward him, he’d sweep her up in his arms.

“Get out of here!” Fiona jerked her head and put her hands on her hips.

Nic held up his hands as if to ward her off. Backing out of the room, he fought the image of taking the fiery little brunette in his arms and making love to her while she wore his Crimson Tide jersey. His mind spun at the thought of his college fantasy coming true. Instead, he retreated down the hall to a safer distance.

•

Fiona looked up, but Nic had left. She frowned.
Good going, Fiona, you’ve pushed yet another man away.

She sighed.

Well, what the hell did he expect her to do? Fall weeping into his arms? Throw herself at his feet? Twist her ankle or faint? She groaned as she walked to the door and closed it.

Get over it, Nic. I don’t need a man to rescue me.

She looked around the room. It seemed empty without his presence. Odd, being alone before had never really bothered her.

She had to stop doing this. Beth was right. At some point, she would have to give someone a chance.

Sure, when pigs fly.

Is this how she wanted to spend the rest of her life? Chasing men out of her bedroom and her life? She knew he’d been waiting for a sign from her. One look, a smile, and he would have taken her in his arms.

Fiona thought about the options. Casually giving her body to some smooth-talking, sword-swinging Southern boy definitely was not going to happen. She’d protected her virginity her whole life and had no plans on stopping. Letting go was something she’d never been good at, and that included giving her heart away. She’d made a vow, and from the last report she’d heard, hell still hadn’t frozen over.

Tonight, she’d fought to the death to protect herself and she’d survived, just like when she was younger.

Her mind turned to Nic.
Oh shit
. He should have been the hero, not her. Tonight, she’d snatched that from him. Those girls looked to her, not him, and she’d seen the dismay in his eyes too, just hadn’t recognized it.

Men
. Fiona sighed.

How was she supposed to know he’d planned some big rescue? He was probably used to being the hero. Guys like him were…were there many men like Nic? Not that she’d seen in this city or anywhere else she’d ever been.

Holding the jersey to her face, she inhaled. It smelled like him: musky, clean, male. She could use a bath, but she was too tired. She reconsidered just sleeping naked and then shrugged on the shirt anyway.

She pulled back the quilt and slipped between the coolness of the sheets. It felt good to lie down and relax. Her muscles felt like they’d been on tight lockdown for days, not hours. Fiona snuggled deeper, pulled the quilt up to her chin, and let herself drift. Despite her worries about being too wound up to sleep, as soon as she closed her eyes, she went out.

•

Nic headed down the hall to the living room and fell onto the couch, pulled off his boots, and dropped them next to his feet. His hand rubbed the bulge in his jeans, and he moaned.

“I’m going to see her naked body every time I close my eyes.”

“What’s so bad about that?”

“I won’t be able to sleep.”

“Just do that thing you do, Nic. You always sleep like a log afterward.”

“Shut up, Cho.”

“I wish I had hands.”

Nic ran his hand through his hair in a frustrated swipe.

“I just have to stay away from her. Think like a professional.”

“Not like a man who hasn’t had a woman in…how long did you say?”

“I didn’t, and that’s beside the point.”

“She’s right down the hall. Go to her. After all, she was almost killed tonight.”

“I’m the last thing she needs. Besides, she’s a virgin.”

“There has to be a first time.”

“She’s waiting for someone special.”

“You’re special, Nic.”

“Shut up, Cho.”

“Is your body going to vibrate all night?”

Nic groaned, stood, and tossed a magazine from the coffee table toward the tree. Half-hearted at best, the attempt landed short. Cho skittered back to the safety of the trunk. He flicked his tongue out as Nic stalked out of the room, down the hall, and into his bedroom. The door shut behind him.

Even I can see she’s the one.

“Hey!” Ivan called to the young man standing on the sidewalk holding the pizza box. "We’re over here, two houses down."

He came up to the guy, his fingers wrapped around the handle of the sap in his pocket.

“My last run of the night, and the dispatcher gets the damn address wrong. Stupid dispatch bitch. She never gets the addresses right. This time, I'm going to complain to the manager when I get back and get her fired for sure."

"Sorry, but it's not her fault. My son gave her the wrong address." Ivan smiled, and the man shrugged.

Following Ivan down the block, the delivery guy climbed the steps and entered the front door as Ivan held it open.

“I’ll just get my wallet. How much is the total?”

“Seventeen eighty-three,” the guy answered.

Ivan gripped the sap in his pocket. The driver was about eighteen, not bad-looking, but sort of on the small side. He’d be easy to take.

The guy stepped farther into the hall, and Ivan took the pizza from him. It was a shame to throw it out — they always smelled so good. Remembering the last time he had tried to eat food, the temptation to taste it slipped away. He hated throwing up.

Ivan put the pizza on the foyer table. When the kid turned, Ivan hit him with the sap, and the guy crumpled to the floor. After scooping him up, he carried him to the basement door under the stairs and down to Annie.

“He’s not dead, is he?” Her hands twisted the hem of her shirt.

Ivan laid him down on the couch.

“No, just knocked out. I thought it would be easier for you this way.” He gave her a smile.

“Thanks, Ivan.” She stood there peering down at the man. “No killing, please.”

“No killing. Are you ready?”

“Can you go first?”

“Sure, baby. Watch an old pro.” Sitting down next to the man, he turned the guy’s head to the side and exposed his neck. “Now, find the right place.” He bent over and used his tongue to find the pulse. “Extend your teeth and bite.” He opened his mouth, teeth ready, and then bit down. The man made no sound.

Waves of desire, hunger, and excitement washed over Ivan in the initial rush of blood down his throat. He quieted his mind and listened for the heartbeat. The young man’s pulse was strong and steady, each beat pushing his blood into Ivan’s mouth. Careful not to take too much, he was aware of just how hungry he was and that he’d have to feed soon.

•

Annie smelled the blood. The scent filled her nostrils and went straight to her brain. Her vision tightened on the young man as he lay there with Ivan draped over him. She whimpered.

Metallic. Hot. She wasn’t sure how she could smell hot, but she did. As she passed her tongue over her lips in anticipation, the sharp points of her teeth raked it. She couldn’t remember willing them to lengthen; it had just happened. Like blinking or breathing. Taking a deep breath, she controlled the urge to join Ivan at the man’s neck. Forcing her hands together to keep them still, she stayed rooted to the spot.

Ivan sat up and licked his blood stained lips. “There, it’s easy.” Standing, he took Annie in his arms, his eyes forcing her to look at him instead of the unconscious man. “I’m going to warn you, Annie. This is a powerful sensation. You’ve been starved for months. You may lose control. Whatever happens, don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“Okay.” She nodded and took his place on the couch. She looked closely at the man’s neck. The marks Ivan made were fading, but she could still see where he had bitten to use as a guide. A growing need filled her.

Annie opened her mouth and found the pulse with her tongue as she quivered in anticipation. She closed her eyes and bit down hard. Hot blood, so much hotter than Draco or Ivan’s, pumped hard into her mouth, flowed over her tongue and down her throat. Much more delicious. More sensual. She tingled with pleasure, and then as the blood flowed, it superheated, igniting an inferno inside her. As her nipples peaked, she never realized it would feel so incredibly sexual.

Her hunger overwhelmed her. Starvation had taken its toll on her and swept her away like a leaf in the wind, helpless to fight the urge. It was a monster, exploding from deep inside her, clawing its way out. She grabbed his shoulders with her hands, clamped down firmer, and fed. Beyond the fury screaming like the wind in her ears, like the sound of waves crashing against the shore, his heartbeat echoed like a drum, driving her on to finish it, to drain every drop of the sweet, life-giving elixir from his body.