Passion Bites: Biting Love, Book 9 (14 page)

Chapter Thirteen

We returned upstairs to the party, where the bride-to-be was opening presents.

Serendipity Braun, a pretty blonde schoolmarm in glasses and a bun, sat in a chair peeling back wrapping, hovered over by her leather-vested fiancé Thor, while everyone oohed and ahhed.

She read a tag. “This is from Nixie and Julian.”

She opened a big square box. It was a four-slot toaster with variable controls.

Everyone said, “Ooh.”

“This is from the Hinz family.”

She opened another box. It was a hand-painted set of dishtowels.

Everyone said, “Ahh.”

“This is from Alexis Byornsson.” She opened my box.

It was a cock ring set.

Silence. Except maybe the
chirp chirp
of crickets. Or maybe that was my ears ringing.

“Interesting,” Serendipity said.

“The clerk said it was a can’t-miss gift,” I mumbled.

“I don’t know,” Thor drawled. “I kinda like it.”

My cheeks incinerated.

“You know, Alexis, it’s been ages since we talked.” Twyla tugged on my sleeve. “Maybe we should go. Do some catching up.”

“Parties were never my thing.”

“Guess not.”

Twyla tugged me into motion back toward the basement stairs.

Elena joined us. “I like parties, but all I can see are suspects.”

As we descended and the air cooled, my brain came out of the red haze of embarrassment and back online. At the bottom of the stairs, I stopped at the first door, because I’d been to Twyla and Nikos’s before.

But she waved me down the hallway. “Julian remodeled a suite for us when we started our family. I found out later he’d had the plans drawn up long before we became official. It’s in the second townhouse.”

We crossed through underground parking into the basement of the other townhouse. Briefly, I wondered if Julian had already drawn up plans for my townhouses too, and got a momentary burn.

I shoved it away. As well as Twyla being my kin, both these women were my friends. They deserved better from me. I attempted to chat. “So Nixie is pregnant again?”

“Yes,” Twyla said. “She’s finally past the nausea and Julian is over the moon. You’d think he wants a dozen more kids.”

I snorted. “He’ll change his tune when Jaxxie is hitting the worst of puberty the same night the four-year-old pees the bed and the baby upchucks his feeding.”

“I know. But we let him enjoy the illusion while it lasts. Here we are.” She led me through a sturdy door similar to the entrance for Nixie’s suite, but this one opened onto a foyer, with a large living room to the right and a doorway on the left. “We’ll use the big people room.” She opened the door into a snug sitting room. “I’ll pour the Irish Cream.”

“Yikes. Who do you plan on interrogating?”

Elena laughed. “She grilled me last week, so it must be you. Thank goodness. I probably should warn you, she heard from Mrs. Gelb that one of the aides walked in on you kissing a man at the hospital. Handsome?”

I flushed hot. Stupid small-town rumor mill. “What are we, twelve?”

Twyla’s lips curved. “Where kissing is concerned, yes.” She poured a cordial glass full of creamy liquid and shoved it into my hand. Alcohol fumes rose from it, so strong they were almost visible. “Tell us all about him.”

“Ladies, sorry to disappoint, but there is no
him.
”

“Right. Let’s get cozy.” She hustled me onto the settee and nodded at Elena to shut the door.

Elena leaned against the closed door. “Sit down, relax.”

“Don’t relax. Drink. Spill sexy details.” Twyla grinned, swirling the bottle. “Not necessarily in that order.”

“And I called you ‘ladies’.” I shook my head. They were as bad as Lizelle. “I can’t believe you. You’re children.”

“We’re not children. In fact, we have children,” Twyla said. Elena nodded.

“Yeah.” With a grimace, I gave in and sipped. The cream went down smooth, the alcohol a pleasant after-burn. “Well, inside this almost-forty-year-old matron is a twenty-one-year-old soul—which makes
you
both thirteen.”

They thought that was a laugh riot, but I was serious.

“Drink,” Twyla said. “We’ll see how old you feel when you’re up another few tenths on the old blood alcohol scale.”

Elena went to the cupboard and got down her own cordial glass. She held it out to Twyla who obliged by filling it, after which Elena toasted me. “She only wants you to be happy.”

“Happily sloshed?” I drank. “It’s temporary.”

Twyla topped off my glass. “My happily-ever-after with Nikos isn’t temporary.”

“I don’t need anyone.” I threw back a slug, a waste of good Irish Cream but she’d touched something that felt like a nerve. “I’m a capable woman. I don’t have to have another person to be whole.”

Twyla shook her head and refilled my glass. “You didn’t always talk that way. You used to want the kind of love your parents have, knowing one person will always love you and always have your back.”

She was right. At one point, I’d wanted the kind of passion only unlocked by one other soul.

For some reason I pictured a broad-shouldered male with hair like a river of sunlight shimmering down the middle of a very muscular back…

I made a rude noise. “Not. Talking. Remember, I’m a born and bred Meiers Cornersian. Grandma soaked my teething ring in cherry schnapps.” I knocked back the rest of the Irish Cream. “You guys may think you can get me drunk to interrogate me, but I’m made of sterner stuff.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to
torture
you.” Twyla handed the bottle to Elena, held up a finger and
wiggled
it.

“Shit…ah-ha-ha-ha!”

She knew exactly where I was ticklish, and I knew she knew, so I was already shrieking when she dug that finger in and hit my T-spot.

“Stop that!” I slapped at her hand, shrieking and nearly weeping with laughter. “I won’t tell you anything about any man—”

“Alexis!” A male roar presaged the door bursting open, flung so hard it nearly exploded into kindling. The door didn’t actually shatter, but it slammed into the wall with a crack-thud and a spray of plaster and paint. Chunks of wallboard clattered to the floor.

Luke Steel flew into the small room, fangs out, eyes red, chest pumping like bellows.

Crap.
I
might not have blabbed, but with that entrance, we might as well have posted it on TwitFace.

Twyla turned toward him, expression shocked.

“Alexis, who
dares
torture you?” His red eyes cut narrow slices across the room, confusion dawning as all he saw was me, my cousin and Elena.

“What the ever-loving Glock?” The detective was pissed, curls snapping around her face as if they were snakes yearning to take a bite out of him. “What is wrong with you, Steel? First the crap upstairs and now this? There are
civilians
around.”

Twyla, blinking, got it first. “
He’s
the one?”

My own face, which must’ve been redder than Luke’s eyes, confirmed it.

Elena’s anger evaporated into a grin. “You and the Untouchable Steel? Huh. Guess I’ll say congratulations.”

By now Luke’s irises were cooling to hazel. “What is going on here?”

“Cousins.” I gave an embarrassed shrug. “Irish Cream and tickling. An ancient and honored method of extracting secrets.”

“Secret…? Oh.”

He got it in time for Twyla to stalk up to him and jab a finger to his chest. Her nail, wedding-cake ivory today, sank between impressive pectorals. Somewhere Luke had lost his suit coat and vest, hair tie, shoes and socks. The casual look was even sexier.

“
You.
Mr. Ménage. You will not make my cousin a slice of bread in any of your Steel-meat sandwiches…unless it’s an open-faced sandwich…damn it, you know what I mean. You will not treat Alexis like one of your conquests.”

He put up both palms. “I don’t intend—”

“Not. Treating. Her. That. Way.” With a final poke, Twyla swept out.

“What she said.” Elena took Twyla’s place, nailing him with a glare so narrow-eyed it might have spewed knives. “Double. Because I carry a gun, and my bullets are silver.” She swept out after my cousin, shutting the door with a conspicuous click, revealing a head-size crater in the wall. That would cost some cash. Hopefully vampire lieutenant paid better than MC ER doctor.

As Elena had shut the parlor door, gray mist curled around the edges, forming into a very red-eyed, fanged-up Julian. “Steel,” he growled. “Nikos said there’s no danger, but I put him and Reece on high alert. What the hell is going on?”

This time it was Luke’s face that turned bright red. “Nothing. Woman stuff.”

“Woman
stuff?
” I started to object.

But Julian stalked up to Luke and grabbed him by the collar, bringing them nose to nose. I got the feeling from the way Luke stiffened up but then almost visibly relaxed that he let him.

“You are wound way too tight, Steel. Find a way to let off some steam or get the hell out of my household.” Julian’s fangs flashed as he spoke, and his talons were poking through the fine material of Luke’s shirt.

I cleared my throat.

Julian spun, his face bulking up and hardening into monstrous plates. “
You.
”

My last meal tried to escape, by any route necessary. I clamped all sphincters, including my eyes.

“Leave her alone,” Luke snarled.

My lids sprang open at that, just in time to see him flash to my side to stand guard, eyes blood-red, fangs and talons slightly smaller than Julian’s but far sharper. He barred me with an arm.

Oh goody. I was the mortal morsel in a vampire fight. I tried to dial up the rational, but my bowels were quivering.

“She started it.” Julian reined himself in with visible effort. “Well, it’s too late, Byornsson. I came to an arrangement with Mr. Crahn here tonight.”

A shaft of ice impaled me, propelling me to my feet. “What?”

“He’ll see your earnest money is returned to you, but you’ll have to move out.”

“My…my townhouses?” I swayed; Luke steadied me with a hand. “But this is my
dream.
You can’t take them—”

“Can and have. It’s done.”

“No,” I croaked. “I’ll fight you…” My whole body felt encased in ice. This was my worst nightmare. My future, finally looking up for a change, had just been shattered.

Julian’s red gaze searched my face. Whatever he saw made his eyes cool to blue and his expression soften. “I’m truly sorry. But I wouldn’t have bought this place without knowing I could expand. I’ve too many dependents and too much invested here to start over. You’ll find someplace else.”

“No.” I shook my head, over and over. “There is no place else.”

“I know this isn’t easy. But you’ll be fine.” Julian glanced from me to Luke and back to me. “Look…I guess you can stay for a while. I know you’re bunking there, so despite what I told your friend, you can stay until you find someplace else to live.”

“My friend…?” I tried to swallow. My throat was too thick. “Oh God. Lizelle knows?”

“I told her a half hour ago.”

The room was spinning. I put a hand on the rock-steady anchor of Luke’s powerful biceps. When I looked into his face, I read concern for me there. As if I was fragile, about to break. As if I couldn’t take this. I didn’t understand why he would think that. It wasn’t like I’d taken a real, physical blow. This was only emotional. Didn’t count…unless it swamped me and paralyzed me, which it
wouldn’t.
I wouldn’t let it.

“I’m fine,” I said automatically. “I have to find Lizelle.” She could be pretty darn tough. But not always.

“Right.” Luke didn’t ask questions. He simply folded a hand over mine and led me upstairs.

Somehow, in that crush of people, he cut his way directly to her.

She was pale, more than her normal porcelain skin. She didn’t try to meet me, didn’t hug me in relief. She only stood there until we reached her side, then simply said, “You heard?”

“Just now.” I put my hands on her shoulders. She was trembling. “I know it seems bad, but we’ve been through worse. I’ll fight it, Lizelle.”

“With what money?” She shook her head, her straight red hair brushing her squared shoulders. “Una needs a safe decent place to stay.” She attempted a smile. “Alexis, you’re always after me to make my own decisions, so I know you’ll support me when I tell you I’ve made a difficult one. It wasn’t easy, but it’s for my daughter’s sake, and my mind’s made up. As soon as good manners let me, I’m leaving to pack.”

“Pack?” Premonition flooded me and panic invaded my lungs, making the word a wheeze. “Where can you go? A motel?”

“No. As luck would have it, John was here at the party.” She gave me a watery smile. “More than luck, really, it’s like it was ordained. He said Una and I can live with him until you find someplace else.”

“What?” I stared at her, dumbfounded. The ice in my chest seemed permanent. “You can’t. Not John—”

“He’s different now. It’s surprising how much.” She squeezed my hands with a little laugh. “He’s stronger, more confident, even his voice is richer… The thing is, he knows what he wants and is willing to fight for it—and it’s our family. He only wants the best for Una and me. Alexis, don’t worry. We won’t be there forever, only a little while.”

She said it confidently, but I knew how slippery her husband was. How emotionally manipulative.

“No, Lizelle. Please. He’ll use Una against you.”

Her expression hardened. “Not this again. She’s his daughter too. He loves her and wants what’s best for her. I’m doing this for Una. So is John.”

We’d been through this before, and I knew how it ended—with Lizelle back in his clutches permanently.
Until he hurt her permanently.
The image of her, bruised and bloodless on a slab in the basement of the hospital made me want to throw up. I held on to her hands until her fingers turned white. “You
can’t—
”

“I am. It’s done.” She yanked her hands from mine, turned and battled away from me through the crowd.

Chapter Fourteen

I stood there, immobilized, body tingling as if I’d been hit by lightning. White noise, no sensation, nothing.

Then everything slammed into me at once. My eyes hurt, hot and moist. My head hurt, my forehead as tense as a drawstring ruched tight. My chest hurt most, aching as if a melon baller had hollowed it out.

I didn’t understand any of it. I hadn’t taken a real, physical blow. But the pain… God, it was worse than any blow.

Anguish cut like broken glass, cutting me from the inside, making me want to fling my hands and beat on anything and everything. Making me want to throw myself against walls.

Because deep inside me, another wall, one I’d built brick by bloody brick to protect against that horrible day, was crumbling.

Memory broke through.

Lizelle, beaming at me. “I’m quitting school because I’m pregnant. But it’s okay, John married me.”

Fear choking me. “Don’t trust him, Lizelle. He did it on purpose. He got you pregnant so he can control you.”

Lizelle, screaming at me. “You’re a monster, trying to break up my marriage. A glass monster, all edges that cut.”

Lizelle, turning away from me. “I never want to see you again.”

I faced Luke, pleading, “Take me to your room.”

He frowned at me. “Now?”

He’s rejecting me too.
He’d seen my monster and didn’t want any part of it. I panicked. Pain sliced so deep I bent with a gasp.

“Alexis.” His hands cupped my shoulders, urging me straight, steadying me. “Whatever’s wrong, I’m here. What do you need?”

He wasn’t rejecting me. Yet.

“I need…I don’t know what I need. My brain is on fire and I can’t think. I don’t know why. I need to think! But I can’t, because everything
hurts.
Take me to your room. Make this awful feeling…” My voice caught. “Make it go away.
Please.
”

The frown disappeared, replaced by the warmest look of sympathy—no, the warmest look of
compassion
I’d ever seen. “As you wish.”

He swept me into his arms and despite the crowd, in an instant we were downstairs in the cool half-dark of his room, and he was kissing me.

Friction heated my skin, his stubbled jaw rasping against my mouth, the rough strokes of his long-fingered, strong hands.

Ice melted, pooled warm in my groin.

It was less lovemaking and more exploding together like a bombshell. Somehow we were naked. Somehow I was on my back on the broad mattress. Somehow he was plunging inside me as I raked my nails on his back.

Somehow, his mouth was at my throat, biting down, driving shafts of intense pleasure into my flesh.

We came together in a shattering fireball. Climax sheared my head off. I arched and clamped and took him with me. His balls tugged at me as he shattered too, and I arched even harder.

I came to with him lapping at my neck, purring like mad. “Alexis,” he was whispering. “Alexis, Alexis.” My name, over and over between licks and swallows.

I stroked his sleek hair. Loose of its confining braid, it spilled over us like a comforter. “Luke? Thank you.”

He gave my neck one final lick and raised his head, his eyes unfocused, pupils as big and dark as dinner plates. He frowned down at me. As his gaze cleared, an expression flashed across his face, full of blame—I couldn’t tell if it was self-recrimination or censure.

Monster.
Probably censure. No less than I deserved. That hadn’t been simple, endorphin-releasing sex, that was taming my monster.

“Wh-what’s wrong?”

He shook his blond head as he slid off me to snatch up his clothes. “Nothing.” He averted his face, but not in time.

“It’s me, isn’t it?” The words tumbled out. “That wasn’t just sex, you knew that, and now you hate me.”

“What? No.” He raised his head, staring at me with the oddest combination of disbelief and chagrin. “Not you. Never
you
.”

“Then
what?
”

“It’s nothing,” he repeated.

But I saw the pain slash him and even I could tell his trauma, whatever it was, wasn’t physical.

Whatever was causing that much misery, it was
not
nothing. Luke was hurting, and hurting badly. And if it wasn’t me causing it…maybe I could help.

Not as a doctor, analytically with proper detachment. Not as a mother, burying his face in my bosom and rocking him.

But as a friend. Talking. Listening. Opening my heart, as he opened his to me.

If he’d let me.

Slowly, tentatively because this was so far outside the rational as to be laughable, I asked, “Can I help?”

Luke paused snatching up his clothes, his nerves still wowing with the aftershocks of the most amazing orgasm of his life.

Can I help?

He wanted to die. He hadn’t thought of Adelaide once.

Guilt didn’t stab, it smothered him. He couldn’t breathe. He stood there clutching his clothes and hated himself. He hadn’t thought of his dead wife once. Only Alexis.

What was
wrong
with him?

Yet Alexis said, “Can I help?”

Impossible. She should’ve been stunned senseless, dazzled by her own climax.

Luke took pains to keep up the illusion of virility, despite centuries of junk that didn’t work. When it came to vampire politics and fighting, reputation was as important as actual strength. He took multiple partners for both the confusion factor—whose arm or leg or cock was that?—and the boost it gave his street cred. And he always,
always
made sure his partners were blown away. Unable to ask awkward questions. He’d gotten amazingly good at it, wowing them with his agile tongue and clever fingers and the judicious scrape of fang.

After going to bed with him, women and men were too dazed from the orgasm he’d given them to remember their own names, much less notice anything as subtle as his emotional state. No cuddling and no pillow talk, which frankly suited Luke.

Yet Alexis had noticed. Asked.

Cared.

He glanced at her, and his eyes hurt like he was staring at the sun. It hurt to look at her, but he couldn’t look away. She was too beautiful, too soft…too naked.

Adelaide. He had to remember his wife. He’d
never
forgotten her before, not until his first time with Alexis. And every time after.

Three times, now.

It made him turn from her to tug on his pants. “Julian’s not kidding, you know. He’ll get those townhouses. You can’t run from reality.” He glanced over his shoulder.

She sat there, speechless, and he wanted to call his words back, wanted to pull her into his arms and stroke her hair and make that hurt little look go away.

Then her jaw kicked up. “Real doesn’t make
right.
”

Pride surged through him. No wimp she, instead brusque in return, and a little mulish. He admired that, so different from Adelaide. She stood, put fists on hips and glared, totally mindless that she was naked. “I have a plan for me and Lizelle—”

“
Lizelle
is willing to be flexible. She’s willing to ask for help.”

“And you can be sure any help she gets from her
husband
will have strings attached or worse.” She started picking up her own clothes.

Her mottled skin, her clenched jaw, and the way she imbued the word husband with such loathing startled him.
I was a good husband, wasn’t I?
A lousy protector, but surely a good husband…who’d forgotten his wife three times, like a Judas.

Stung, he automatically said, “Oh, come now. Surely Umbras couldn’t be that bad if she’s willing to go back to him?”

She froze. Spun to him and threw down her clothes so hard the belt buckle on her pants cracked.

“He
beat
her.” She stalked up to him, yelling the whole way. “Verbally knocked her around and used his fists where the bruises couldn’t be seen. Hurt her without leaving marks until that wasn’t enough for him. Until she had the kid and couldn’t escape. Then the bones started breaking, ‘accidentally’ at first, but it kept happening until it was too many to be accidental. The night she’d finally had enough, she came to me but couldn’t tell me what happened because he’d cracked her jaw in two.” She was shrieking in his face by the end, tears streaming freely down her cheeks.

“Then why is she going back?” Horror made his voice rasp.

“Because he’s a master manipulator. All he had to do was show up here, saying that he’s changed, that he’s better now. That their daughter deserves more than camping out in a run-down building I don’t even own. Playing on her guilt that she’s denying him the right to see his own ch-child.” She sobbed. “God, that hurts. He knows exactly where to press, what to kick, to make her crumble.” Swallowing hard, she went on in a low, emotion-choked voice. “He’s done it before. He calls, pleading that this time it’ll be different. Shows up, saying trust me. Lures her with the promise of a home, a family. He’s a Svengali, playing on her feelings. She doesn’t trust him but that’s not enough. The moment he walks into the room, he manages to worm his way in all over again. If only she’d see him for what he really is!”

“A monster,” Luke breathed, understanding.

She flinched. Fell back a step, color draining. A beat. She started trembling.

His heart stuttered, seeing her so suddenly fragile.

Then she spun and started scooping up her clothes, stuffing them into the crook of one arm. “I have to go.”