Master of the Night (4 page)

Dangerous,
he thought.
She's so dangerous.

Erin was the kind who would blow into the Gift like a detonating bomb if he took her too many times. He could almost taste the power stirring under her skin, even from so little contact. The Majae's Council would have his head on a pike if he turned her without permission. Assuming she didn't go mad and kill him herself.

But once…
his clamoring body whispered. Once wouldn't trigger her Gift, particularly if he used protection. He could take her once without taking her too far.

And finally slake his grinding, maddening thirst for the first time in a year. The thirst for a Latent with Merlin's Gift running hot in her veins.

His cock swelled and heated even more behind his fly. In his mouth his fangs slid to full extension. He hoped she didn't notice.

 

The taste of
Champion's mouth shouldn't have hit her so hard. It was, after all, a simple kiss, a touch of lip and tongue, barely qualifying as foreplay by any reasonable standard.

Oh, she'd expected a little sizzle. Reece knew his business, and so did she. Both of them were fully capable of spinning a kiss into something sweetly erotic, a sensual aperitif, a promise of more to come.

But then something happened. Something magic that sizzled in the taste of his mouth, in the way those powerful hands caught her against his straining erection.

As he dragged her closer, she felt every inch of that big body, hard and brawny under the elegant camouflage of his tux. His tongue played around hers, teasing her arousal to blazing life. Every time he moved against her, the lace of her bra tormented her hard, sensitized nipples. Deep between her thighs, she felt the first heated trickle of desire.

Some instinct sounded a dim alarm. Erin wasn't a dewy-eyed virgin. She'd played the game before, knew her way around a man's body. Knew the dance of lust so well the steps had lost their urgency.

This was more.

His scent and taste swamped her blood like a narcotic. Need rolled over her, drowned intellect in fire.

It wasn't simple desire, or even simple lust. It was more primal than that. As if he'd triggered some imperative buried in her cells, a drive to give herself up to him in some ancient erotic ritual.

Unprofessional,
whispered the voice of sanity. For God's sake, she was investigating this man's possible involvement with Satanists.

True, she'd been ordered to establish a relationship with Champion, play on his well-known weakness for pretty women. But she wasn't supposed to actually tumble into bed with him.

She'd better get herself under control. Now. Fight the spell of those magical hands and drag herself out of his reach.

But then those broad, strong fingers cupped the curve of her breast through her bodice. His thumb flicked across her nipple.

Oh, God,
Erin thought, even as her body purred,
Oh, yes.

It had been
more than a year since a man had touched Erin with such bold sensuality. Even David had been too much the professional, as aware as she'd been of the rules.

Until it had been too late.

But Reece Champion cared nothing for polite, professional distance, for political correctness. He wanted her. Period.

Temptation surged through Erin on a river of pounding blood. Why not? Yes, sex with him would be well beyond the call of duty, but what better way to win his trust? The Outfit wasn't the FBI, after all; its agents specialized in breaking the rules. And once she'd become his lover, Erin could gain the leverage to break this case wide open.

God knew she'd been coming up empty so far. She needed a break, and he could give it to her. One small opportunity could be the key to avenging David and finding out just what the hell had happened last year.

Champion's mouth brushed along the straining cords of her throat, bringing the rapid spin of her thoughts to an abrupt halt. The teasing sensation made her breath catch as he paused to nibble gently. She breathed a soft sound, somewhere between a sigh and a whimper.

The helplessness of that tiny noise jolted her, forced her to wonder if her judgment was entirely sound. She certainly had reason to doubt it; her head was spinning, and spots of light floated in front of her eyes.

Blinking, she realized the lights were stars. She'd tipped her head back as Champion pressed his lips to her banging pulse. His teeth nipped gently.

Erin felt her weakened knees give. He caught her against him, one hand wrapped around the curve of her bottom, the other still cupping her breast. Driven by pure instinct, she lifted one leg and curled it behind his, opening herself to him.

There are a hundred people in the next room,
some fragment of self-preservation whispered. “Champion, we can't do this,” Erin moaned.

“Not here,” he agreed, his voice so rough and dark with anticipation, a ball of need began to heat between her thighs. “Where are you staying?”

“The Ambassador. On”—she broke off with a gasp as he raked his teeth across her pulse—“on Peachtree Street.”

“Not a hotel. Not for this.” He drew back. “I'll take you home with me.”

Her mouth opened to say, “No, you won't,” but then she met his hot animal gaze and found the words beyond her willpower.

Champion raised a strong hand and tucked a lock of hair back into her elegant French twist, then scanned her with a single, searing glance. “There.” He smiled crookedly. “You're presentable.”

She automatically glanced down his big body until her gaze snagged on his zipper. The bulge there made her eyes widen. “You're not.”

He looked down, then up at her again through the feathered screen of his lashes. “Now look what you've done. You'll just have to walk in front of me.”

A giggle escaped her. Horrified, she clamped her teeth together. She never giggled. It was so damn unprofessional.

But then, looking into those hot green eyes, it was easy to believe professionalism was overrated.

He took her elbow in one big hand and guided her toward the door. His grip was gentle as he escorted her into the brightly lit ballroom, yet something about it made her feel like a pirate's conquest being borne off into the night.

I shouldn't be doing this,
she thought as she walked just ahead of him through the crowd.
I've got to tell him to stop. Now, before it goes too far.

It shouldn't be this difficult to tell him no. Not for her. Over and over again, Erin had proven herself the master of her own emotions. Even with David, the man she'd loved.

Maybe that's why I'm finding it so tough now
. For years her partner's cautious determination to play by the rules had kept them apart. Erin had gone along with him at first, but toward the end, she'd grown tired of it. She'd wanted David far more than she'd wanted to go by the book.

But David
was
the book.

In the end his precious rules hadn't saved them from the nightmare that had destroyed them both. Of course, giving in to their mutual passion probably wouldn't have saved them, either. One way or another, David would still be dead, and Erin's FBI career would still be in ruins. On the other hand, she might also have something more to remember than grief, regret, and cold, dead dreams.

She was sick of regret, of yearning uselessly for a passion she'd never tasted. She wanted to feel Reece's clever mouth on her bare skin, wanted to feel him drive to his full, hard length inside her. Wanted him so badly, she didn't give a damn about rules, risk, or even common sense.

For once, Erin Grayson was going to get what she wanted.

 

Poor little Latent.

Reece could sense Erin's losing battle with the demands of her body. She had no idea of the power of the erotic undertow they'd been caught in.

He did.

He supposed if he was any kind of gentleman at all, he would release her and walk away. He'd probably have done just that a year ago, before he'd spent months locked in a hell of hate and sand, among wary women who wouldn't even meet his eyes.

As it was, she wasn't the only one skidding out of control. Now Reece craved the release he'd find in her lush, hot femininity far too much to care about playing fair.

They'd both have to take their chances.

 

The waiter balanced
his tray of canapés as an overweight guest made her selection. His gaze, however, was focused on Reece Champion and Erin Grayson as they slipped out through the ballroom's double doors.

“Targets are leaving,” he murmured, just loud enough for his body mike to pick up the words.

The woman looked up, her plump fingers hesitating over a quiche. “What?”

He smiled at her. “Nothing, ma'am. Nothing at all.”

 

Inside a catering
truck in the ComTec parking lot, James Avery frowned as he watched the monitor for the elevator security camera. Erin was wrapped in Champion's arms again as they kissed with the same ravenous hunger the waiter's button camera had recorded when they'd stepped onto the balcony.

At his elbow Steven Parker snickered. “I thought you said she was a pro.”

Avery frowned. “She is. I've known her ten years—hell, I trained her. She's intelligent, capable, and controlled, and she breaks the rules only when she has to. That's why I hired her for the Outfit to begin with, despite the mess with her partner. So what the devil is she doing now?”

The blond's lips curled into a thin smirk. “Looks to me like she's about to put her assets to good use.”

Which certainly played into their plans. And yet…Avery drummed his long brown fingers on the monitor console. “This is totally out of character. Wonder if Champion's doing something to her?”

“If he's not, he certainly intends to.” Parker's pale eyes were focused hungrily on the monitor. “At least, judging by the way his hand is sliding up her skirt.”

Avery eyed the other agent in distaste. Parker might be the nominal head of this operation, but if he kept up the attitude, Avery was going to bitch to the FBI until they sent in somebody else.

Frowning, he switched his attention to the monitor. Grayson and Champion stepped hastily apart as the elevator neared the lobby. The camera angle didn't allow a view of her face, but Avery thought she staggered slightly.

But why? He knew good and damn well Erin wasn't tipsy. She'd had one glass of champagne and a sip or two of another. Not nearly enough to test the tolerance of a woman who'd drunk Avery himself under the table a memorable time or two.

Had
Champion done something to her?

“We should have told her what she was getting into,” Avery said aloud, voicing the thought that had been nagging at him since he'd learned the details of Parker's plan. “I don't like sending her in blind.”

The agent snorted. “She'd have been terrified, and with Champion's senses, he'd have known it.”

Avery glowered as he remembered watching a tech tape a body mike to Erin's flat belly just last week. They'd all known if the cultists of Death's Sabbat made her for a government agent, they'd kill her on the spot. Yet there'd been nothing in those clear blue eyes but ruthless determination.

Erin was completely dedicated to shutting down the cult she held responsible for her partner's death, and she was willing to do whatever it took to accomplish that aim. Her hunger for justice was so great, it left no room for fear or self-doubt. “Erin Grayson is no coward,” he growled.

“She'd better not be.” Parker leaned back in his seat and laced his hands behind his head. “But think about it. What if we'd asked you, ‘How'd you like to be a vampire's dinner date?' What would you have said?”

“I'd have done my job,” Avery said stiffly. “Just like Erin.”

“And Champion would have known something was off. She wouldn't have gotten close enough to sniff his aftershave.” Parker jerked his chin at the monitor showing the view from the lobby's security camera. The vampire was guiding her toward the revolving door with a hand resting on the small of her back. “He's sure letting her in close now.”

Avery frowned, knowing the Fed was right.

That didn't mean he had to like it.

 

Erin watched in
admiration as the valet drove Champion's car up to meet them at the curb. The black Ferrari convertible looked more like a jet fighter than a car, and its engine rumbled like a tiger's purr.

“I'm not compensating for anything, if that's what you're wondering.” Champion grinned as he beat the valet to the passenger door and opened it for her.

She remembered the bulge he'd pressed against her belly. “The thought never even crossed my mind.” He laughed as she sat down and eased her legs inside, careful of her short skirt.

A fire truck roared by, its shrill siren piercing the spell Champion had spun with his big body and raw silk voice. Erin took a calming breath of cool night air as he started around the car.

Pausing in front of the Ferrari's nose, he pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. “Pardon me,” he said, raising his voice to be heard as he dialed with a thumb. “I have to give my housekeeper some instructions.”

As he murmured into his cell, Erin frowned, not entirely comfortable with the idea of going to his house. For one thing, she hated giving up the home-court advantage.

Besides, her hotel would be safer. A place filled with so many people would make him think twice about any criminal intentions he might be harboring.

As Champion slid in next to her, she opened her mouth to tell him she'd changed her mind. Then he looked over at her, one corner of that pirate's mouth kicking up. Something in that half-smile sent adrenalin and heat surging through her.

It was the same reckless exhilaration she felt going undercover at one of the Sabbat's dark celebrations—half fear, half pleasure.

What the hell. She really couldn't afford to pull the plug anyway, not now that they were actually on the way to his house. Her objective, after all, was to get him into a relationship she could use to find out if he was financing the cult. Pissing him off by playing cock tease was not the way to do it.

As Champion pulled out of the parking lot, the wind made its first pass through her hair. Erin tilted her head back, letting the breeze cool her face.

No, she wouldn't back out. Getting close to Champion might give her the weapon she needed to blow the cult wide open. Which in turn would both restore the shine to her tarnished reputation and avenge David's death.

That was worth any risk.

 

“I'm going after
them,” Parker said, rising to his feet. “I'll take my car. This van would stand out like a hooker in church. Want to back me up?”

“Yeah, sure.” Avery rose from his seat as the FBI agent slid open the truck's door. As the two men strode over to the nondescript blue sedan parked nearby, he frowned. “Shouldn't we mobilize the rest of the men?”

“No point.” The agent shook his head. “We won't be taking him tonight. I do want to keep an eye on them, though.”

Avery nodded and got in the passenger side. For once, Parker had said something he agreed with.

 

Champion's home was
far more impressive than Erin would have expected, given his self-described status as a second cousin in his sprawling clan. As they drove through a wrought-iron security fence, she gazed around in admiration. The house looked more like an English manor than anything else, complete with a turret entry and redbrick walls. Towering windows accentuated the effect with cream brick borders that reminded her of a medieval castle. “Nice house,” she drawled in dry understatement.

He threw her a flashing grin. “It's not mine. Belongs to the family.”

Erin grinned at him. “You squatting, Champion?”

“Something like that.” He whipped the Ferrari up the curving drive and parked it in front of the door. As he slid out of the car, she stayed put, suspecting he intended to open the car door for her.

She was right. He extended a hand to help her out. She took it and slid from the car. “Thank you.”

Champion tucked her hand into the bend of his brawny arm. “Would you like a tour of the garden?”

“In the dark?”

He shrugged. “It looks best by moonlight.”

“Why, Champion—if I didn't know better, I'd think you have a romantic streak.” She let him guide her to the brick sidewalk that curved around behind the house.

“Of course.”

“Of course?” She cocked her head at him. “Most men I know would rather be called a barbarian than a romantic.”

Champion smiled slightly. “The most dangerous men are always romantics, Erin. A barbarian will kill for self-interest. A romantic will kill for a dream.”