Nightfall (6 page)

“Come for me, Quinn,” she commanded at last. Then she bit
him.

She could release a rush of pheromones with her bite, and
she did so now, propelling his orgasm to a much higher intensity, though if his
was anything like hers, it was already more intense than expected. His blood
flooded her mouth, and she’d never tasted a man who was so every-kind-of-taste
she wanted. Bittersweet chocolate, just like the color of his eyes. Leather and
sweat, open prairie, the heat of a horse’s flanks, sunsets over open land, the
terrain she’d driven in darkness since she entered Texas. All of it was in him.

Oh God, she was so hungry. She really had waited too long to
feed. A couple of his more thoughtful looks in the bar had suggested he’d
picked up on some sense of vulnerability in her, and maybe it was the weakness
that came with hunger. That wasn’t acceptable in normal circumstances, but all
she could think of right now was that he would nourish her, help restore her in
so many ways.

She knew how much to drink without endangering him. He’d be
a little lethargic tomorrow, but he’d be fine, no worse than an aggressive
blood donation. If she gave him the first mark, she could figure out where he
was, imagine what he was doing…

It was good she was on the downhill side of her climax when
she had that thought, because the shock of it might have stopped her mid-peak.
She’d never been tempted to give a man
any
one of the three marks that
were the steps toward making a human a vampire’s full servant. She was too
young, right? Or maybe it was because she’d been dealing with too much shit
from Laurent to have time to focus on it.

Quinn might just be wrong time, wrong place. But it didn’t
feel that way.

The geographical locater, the first mark, wouldn’t be too
bad. She’d always know where he was, would be able to tell when he was coming
to the bar. Of course she’d scented him over a room full of people, so that was
a weak justification.

Nevertheless, she did it, releasing the serum as she drank.
It tingled through his blood in a way that made him shudder once more, but it
also had the least side effects of any of them. It was okay to know where he
was. She wanted to know where he was. Always, even when she had to leave him
behind as a fond memory. Part of her history.

He groaned out the last of his release, her holding him
close. She didn’t want to let him go, and he gave a half chuckle against her
temple when he tried to shift off her and she merely tightened her grip.

“I’m too heavy.”

He wasn’t. He was like the shelter in a storm, his heat, his
scent, the steady thump of his heart. What was wrong with her? He couldn’t
protect her. No one could.

“Hey.” His hand slid up to cup her skull, to hold her face
pressed to his throat and shoulder as she held him even tighter. “You’re
shaking, honey. You okay?”

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat, forced herself to smile
before she laid her head back on the pillow. “You’re right. You’re heavy. Get
off.”

He gave her a searching look even as he smiled and slid to
the side. When he gathered her up against him, it was no hardship to drape over
his chest, put her cheek down over that reassuring heartbeat, feel his
fingertips stroke through her hair, down her bare back.

She threaded her fingers through his light mat of chest
hair, followed the arrow of it to his ridged abdomen, stroked his hip bone and
studied his cock, now replete but so obviously capable of giving a woman
pleasure. He turned his head, pressed his lips and nose into her hair. It was
an intimate position, one that unfurled things inside her. Unexpected things.

“Selene.” He paused, and she liked how her name sounded on
his lips. “Who are you hiding from?”

She propped herself up on an elbow. He gave her a searching
look, reached up to slide a finger along her cheek, her jaw. In return, she
settled her fingers on the bite mark on his neck. She knew he hadn’t really
registered it too much. The euphoria the released pheromones caused could do
that, but now he put his hand there as well. She moved her hand so he could
touch the bites, but put her fingers back over his and pressed down, let him
feel those two punctures, understand they were a bit more extreme than the
usual love bite.

“No one who is part of your world, Quinn.” If she did
everything the way she should, that world would never be part of his. Yeah,
she’d given him the geographical locater mark, but that was a minor infraction,
not a big deal. It actually protected him a little bit.

“So you’re really strong. You don’t like daylight. And…”

She saw his fingers slide across his throat again. He
wouldn’t say it aloud, but she could hear him thinking it. She’d drunk his
blood.

“Yes, I’m a vampire.”

He wouldn’t believe her. That was the point. The powerful
vampires on the top of the food chain who called the shots for all of them
mostly lived in their mansions, cloaked in a veil of mystery. As such, they
could harp all they wanted about never breathing a word about being a vampire
to the human world and make that work.

In contrast, she was an average-income working girl with
fangs and no permanent home. So in the twenty-first century, full of zealots
and freaks in the news, she’d found the opposite tactic worked. Instead of
hiding all the obvious vampire peculiarities, she put them out in the open,
claimed she was a vampire, and people just shrugged and expected she was an
escapee from the Discovery Channel Taboo series. It was the best century
ever
for a non-human to blend.

That strategy worked best when she worked and stayed in
large cities, which Nightfall was decidedly not. But Quinn had seemed desperate
enough to be worth the risk. If she proved she could run his bar and give him a
good time in bed, he’d probably roll with it for a while. Guys tended to accept
a crazy chick if the sex was worth it. And if she didn’t cause him any hassles
with running After Dark.

“A vampire, hmm?” He had that measuring look in his eye,
already weighing her potential crazy-chick factor against Artie’s many
shortcomings. After her performance this evening, she expected she still had
Artie by a mile.

“Yeah, but if you don’t mind, I’d ask that you keep that
information to yourself. And not just so people won’t think your new bar
manager is a freak.”

As he mulled that, Selene watched him with a frown. The way
he was processing the information seemed different from most humans. Almost as
if it wasn’t his first encounter with something otherworldly, something more
significant than the typical everyone-has-a-ghost-story-to-tell imaginings.

There was no scent of magic on him, yet the look in his
eyes, while not total acceptance, was…wait and see. She didn’t know if that
made things more or less dangerous for her here.

Though she was curious, she couldn’t grill him on it right
now. The timing wasn’t right and this might not work out at all. She could be
back on the road tomorrow, for all she knew.

Turning on his side, he touched the pendant lying on her
breast bone. “Odd necklace for a vampire. Looks like a dagger through a heart.”
His gaze flicked up to her. “Or a stake.”

“It’s a reminder that none of us are as invincible as we
think we are.”

“Hmm. What if you can’t trust me? What if I tell the local
paper? Call Van Helsing?”

“If he looks like Hugh Jackman, go right ahead. But
technically, I’m supposed to kill you if you tell anyone. I’d prefer not to do
that. I need the job.”

She lay back down in his arms, nestled her head under his
chin. Once he went home, got up in the morning to do his normal ranch day, he’d
probably rethink hiring a woman who acted like a vampire, who’d drunk his
blood.

But that was later. For now, she’d lie here and imagine that
maybe, for at least a little while, she’d found a place to be. Planting a
distracting suggestion might help. Not that she needed a reason. She’d much
rather play sensual games with him than talk about things that sent off alarm
bells in his world.

“Quinn?” She whispered it against his ear, pleased at the
strength of the arm that tightened around her, the heat of his body, the sleepy
male grunt of acknowledgement. “Do you own a whip? Chaps?”

She actually felt him go more still, and hid a smile in his
shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“Next time you come to me, I want you to bring them.” She
drew back, put a finger on his lips before he could ask. “I’m not going to tell
you why. Your job is just to obey. Understand, cowboy?”

He tilted his head down to look at her, those brown eyes
that were so deliciously conflicted, the firm mouth she wanted to spend a lot
more time tasting…and make taste her. Thinking of curling her hand in that
thick hair, pushing his lips against her pussy, she shivered with pleasure. He
felt it, his eyes darkening. She’d ride him again tonight. Maybe a couple more
times.

Cowboys had stamina, after all.

“Yes ma’am,” he drawled, with a glint in his eye.

“Don’t move, cowboy.”

How could a voice like a whisper over the skin be so
dominating at the same time? It held him in place on his knees, hands behind
his back, even as he craved to reach out and touch the creamiest skin he had ever
seen. Quinn gritted his teeth, chafing at the tone of command even as his body
responded to it. His cock throbbed with urgent need and his mouth watered to
taste again every inch of the petite woman standing before him.

“Do you want to lick my cunt?”

“Yes.” He ground out the word. He wanted to lap her
incredible essence more than he wanted his next breath. What stunned him was
the desire—no,
need
—to wait for her to give him permission. As if his
body was chained with invisible restraints that could only be released by a
word from her. A nod. Perhaps even a touch.

Her tongue slid over her plump lips before they curved
into a knowing smile.

“No touching me except with your tongue.”

He tightened his fists at the small of his back until his
nails dug into his skin. Shockingly, the pain sent lust spiraling through him
and the throbbing in his cock increased.

“Well?” she prompted.

“You’re tough.”

“Oh cowboy.” Her eyes glinted with hunger. “You have no
idea.”

While his brain couldn’t reconcile the ethereal vision
before him with her whipstrike authority, his body was having no trouble
telling him to get right on with it before he imploded. His pulse pounded in
his veins as Selene moved forward until barely a sheet of paper would have fit
between them. Widening her stance, she spread the lips of her pussy with slim
fingers, presenting him with all that slick pink flesh.

His tongue snaked from his mouth, the tip gliding down
from the top of her slit. He paused briefly to circle her clit, stimulating the
knot of flesh, then following the path back up to the top. Her sigh of pleasure
spurred him on, and he did it again. And again. And—

Quinn woke. He’d neglected to close the blinds last night
and the morning sun poured over him, burning his eyes. The quilt was crumpled
at the foot of the bed and the sheet was draped haphazardly from his waist, his
aching shaft tenting it enough to make room for an army.

Shit. Holy shit.

The dream had been so vivid that he thought it was real,
leaving him looking around the room for Selene. But of course she wasn’t there.
She was sleeping, either in the dark cellar or in that little apartment above
After Hours. Recharging her energy, she’d told him when she sent him on his
way.

In every relationship he’d been the one in control. The one
to call the shots. To demand. Oh he always paid attention to his partner’s
needs, making sure she was completely satisfied. Tested and teased to find out
the things that turned her on. Excited her. But it was his rodeo. He’d been in
charge all his life, first with his competitions, then with the ranch, now with
the bar.

But last night Selene had taken command. When she wound his
belt around his wrists, restraining him, he’d been harder than he ever
remembered. When at last she permitted him to come—
permitted!
—his
release nearly blasted the top of his head off.

What was it she’d said?
There’s a different kind of male
power, Quinn. One that you’ve always known is waiting for you, waiting to serve
a woman if she knows where to look for that treasure.

It would have to be on her terms. Could he accept that?

Maybe.

Maybe that was why he’d had the dream. A message that she
was unlocking a side to him he’d never acknowledged but sensed, particularly in
his growing dissatisfaction with his existing relationships. He saw it as a
battle of wills, himself the animal craving to be both goaded and tamed. While
one part of his brain said
fuck, no
the other part said
more, more,
more.

Forcibly shutting down his internal dialogue, he shoved
himself out of bed and padded into the bathroom. In the shower he realized he
couldn’t possibly get dressed with his penis so heavy and hard. As he leaned
against the tile wall of the shower, hot water beating down on him, he stroked
himself roughly to completion.

Closing his eyes, he imagined standing before her. His mouth
grew dry at the vision of her spun-gold hair drifting around her face, the pale
tracery of veins beneath her delicate skin, the faint beat of her pulse at the
sweet hollow of her throat, blue eyes gleaming with hunger as she watched him
come for her. Maybe when he was finished she’d lift his hand and lick it clean
before wrapping those moist lips around his cock.

Stop!

He had to get dressed. Get outside. The hands were moving
part of the herd from one pasture to another today and everyone was needed,
including him. His hand was shaking as he turned off the stream of water and
stepped out to dry himself. He managed to pull on his clothes and his boots
without passing out, but his body was so weak it took a supreme effort of
concentration.

By the time he reached the kitchen he had thankfully managed
to pull himself together.

“Everyone else ate and headed out,” Annette scolded.

The woman had come with the ranch, so to speak, having
served as housekeeper for the previous owner. She lived in a tiny house just
past the barn that looked as if it had been built one year before God, but she
always assured him that it suited her just fine. No, she didn’t need him to
make any improvements, thank you very much, so quit pestering her about it.
Quinn wasn’t sure of her exact age. Somewhere between forty and sixty, he
guessed, with a solid body. She wore her graying dark hair in a long braid down
her back and he’d never seen her with makeup. Or clad in anything except jeans
and shirts, come to think of it. She dispensed the law of man according to
Annette along with the most delicious meals he’d ever eaten, and kept the hands
under tight control. Every morning he prayed she hadn’t decided to pull up
stakes and move on.

“Late night?” she prodded.

“Hard night at the bar,” he mumbled.

That had been the damn truth. Only it wasn’t the bar that
had been hard.

Annette poured coffee into a mug for him and took two egg
and sausage biscuit sandwiches out of the oven. She studied his face. “You’ll
kill yourself running the ranch and that bar at the same time.”

He swallowed some of the coffee. “I think I might have fixed
that last night.”

“Yeah?” She lifted an eyebrow. “Not with that piece of trash
Artie you’ve had in there.”

Quinn smiled, remembering Selene’s attitude where Artie was
concerned.

“No, Annette. Artie’s history.” Another gulp of coffee. “Got
myself a new one who knows what she’s doing.”

“She?” Annette’s jaw dropped. “I heard the boys saying
something about it when they ate but I didn’t pay it much attention. Where’d
you get her? What makes you think a woman can handle those roughnecks, anyway?”

“She wandered in looking for a job. Can you believe it? By
the end of the night she had everyone eating out of her hand.”

Annette barked a short laugh. “This I gotta see.”

“Maybe I can coax her out here for one of your meals
sometime.”

When exactly would that be, you idiot?

Last night he’d wanted very badly to spend the rest of it
with her but she was adamant.

“Vampires need to sleep. Alone.”

Vampires, for shit’s sake.

Of course, between Sam’s shaman stuff and his grandfather’s
tales, it didn’t sound near as crazy as it should. He slugged down the rest of
the coffee and picked up the two breakfast sandwiches. “I expect the boys are
already out with the herd?”

“And probably cussing you for sleeping in.”

Quinn looked at his watch. Six thirty. Yeah, she was right.
But that damn dream—

“On my way.”

He strode to the barn to retrieve his black gelding,
Midnight, and saddle him. While he was doing that, Kevin Lang limped out of the
barn. Unable to work the cattle after an accident, he now kept the tack in
shape and made sure the stalls were mucked and the horses fed.

“They’re all out in the west pasture, Quinn.” The old man
squinted up at him. “Heard you drive in real late last night. I’m surprised you
can even sit a horse today.”

“I’m fine, old man.”
About to get better.
“See you
later.”

He wolfed down one of the breakfast sandwiches before
swinging up into the saddle and urging Midnight forward. As he cantered past
the barn, Annette’s little place and the bunkhouse, he skirted around the big
steel building that held his small private plane.

Along with having a ranch, flying his own plane had been
another deep-seated goal. He’d taken some of his rodeo winnings and bought the
little two-seater for a good price, had the steel building thrown up, tarmac
poured for the runway and some landing lights installed. Though he used the
plane sometimes to check fences and water holes, he hadn’t had the opportunity
to use it for pleasure, embrace the sense of freedom flying brought him. Maybe
if Selene worked out at After Hours he’d be able to take off for some place now
and then.

With Selene.

Yeah, he’d like that. Always supposing he could talk her
into it.

Riding to the west pasture, he relished the feel of the big
horse beneath him, muscles moving rhythmically between his thighs.

Unbidden, his mind called up the image of Selene straddling
him last night, riding him as he rode this bronc, the silken fall of her hair
like a curtain surrounding him. Did she get the same feeling when her thighs
were pressed against his body? Did the same sense of dominance race through
her, the edge of excitement at controlling such power with just a touch of the
hand or a flex of thigh muscles?

There was that word again. Dominance. He hadn’t been able to
get it out of his head.

Quinn was far from a sexual novice and Lord knew he’d played
his share of kinky games. But this thing with Selene was something way beyond
that. When he drove his cock into her he’d felt like a bucking horse thrusting
into a brood mare. Her being in complete control of the situation only ramped
up the lust and desire boiling inside him.

He couldn’t lie to himself. The sex had been amazing. No,
beyond that. Mind-blowing. His mouth watered as he recalled the perfect deep
rose of her nipples and the sweet pink flesh of her cunt.

Business, Pedraza. Pay attention. You have a ranch to
run.

The men were already rounding up the cattle when he reached
the west pasture. He kept a crew of four experienced and dependable hands who
needed little supervision from him. They’d taught him everything he now knew
about ranching, all the things he’d refused to learn as a boy. He shook his
head over the memory of that sullen adolescent, the rebellious teenager who
could have ended up doing nothing with his life, if other factors hadn’t
intervened. Well, one major factor.
Sam.

He wondered what the old shaman would think of Selene. He’d
probably get that sage look on his face but say something smartass, like a
1950s cheesy western flick. “
White man who thinks with his little head ends
up losing his big one.”

“Hey, Quinn.” Johnny Barragan urged his horse forward and
trotted over to greet him. His foreman had worked for the old man who owned
Last Chance before Quinn and knew more about ranching than even Quinn’s dad
had. “Planning to wait until we got all the cows moved before you got your ass
out of bed?”

Moving part of the herd from one pasture to the other in
preparation for planting new grain was something they could almost do in their
sleep. Considering his schedule lately, today he was more than grateful for
that. Even so, he had to give the guys a hard time. Part of the comfortable
routine of the day.

“Yeah.” Quinn grinned at Johnny. “Thought I’d let you guys
do all the hard work before I showed up.”

“Heard you got a fine new bartender.”

Quinn frowned. “News sure travels fast. I just hired her
last night.”

Johnny nodded. “Word is Artie’s been blabbing to everyone
how he got thrown out on his ass for no good reason.”

“Artie needs to shut his mouth before I punch his head down
where the sun don’t shine. But yeah, he’s out. Thank God. Got someone in there
who knows how to run a bar. Tamed the help and the customers without even
raising her voice.”

And me.

“We could sure use a fine-looking woman around here,” the
cowboy said.

Quinn’s fists knotted on the reins. “Pass the word the rule
is hands off, Johnny. No one touches her or they’ll have to go through me.”

The man’s eyes rose almost to the Stetson that sat on his
head. “That so? Any special reason?”

“Because I said so. Now let’s get to work.”

Johnny gave him a speculative look but trotted back off. As
they all fell into a working rhythm like a choreographed ballet, Quinn was
nevertheless glad that they were only moving a small part of the herd today,
because his mind kept wandering. He had the feeling he’d been bewitched.

“I’m a vampire.”

Had she really said that? Did she even expect him to take
her seriously?

In Texas, outrageous legends were as common as household
pets. So many had been handed down by the Comanche who had settled this
particular area of the state. His grandfather had told him plenty of those
stories. The one uppermost in his mind was the chupacabra, the bloodsucking
beast who wreaked havoc wherever it went.

Legends are not necessarily fantasy,
haitsi
.

Sam again. Given how tumultuous his thoughts were today, it
was no wonder that the man who’d shown him how to find a quiet inside, who’d
helped point him toward better goals than rebelling against his father’s
hardness, would be coming to mind again.