Stroke of Midnight (20 page)

He laughed when she sighed, trying to will his erection away. This woman had him tied to her in a way no other woman ever had and he loved every minute of it. He laughed. She was going to be the death of him yet.

"The lady said she wanted it rare, not medium. If she wants the steak still mooing when you put the plate down, give it to her, so please take this one back."

"Thank you," Tara said quietly, ignoring the indignant look the diner waitress gave her. It was already late afternoon, and she sat in the local diner they had found and studied Rider. She'd bitten the man so hard that the side of his neck had a huge purple blotch on it. She was just thankful there weren't puncture marks. The sunglasses he'd bought her had helped, and every once in a while he would stare at her hard and ask if she was all right. It made her smile. She was flattered that he was so anxious to get back to the room that he was fidgeting with the silverware. She understood all too well, she could barely sit in the vinyl booth herself. His hair was still damp from the shower, and the heat in the diner and drips from his hair made his T-shirt cling to his torso. She watched the muscles in his shoulders work beneath the thin cotton fabric. Just looking at him was making her want to slide out of her seat.

Nobody had ever made her feel this way. At least not a man with a soul. He was a gift she wouldn't squander. She felt his caring all the way down to the bottoms of her feet. He was special. Suddenly she desperately hoped he'd be asleep by the time it got dark. Maybe the blood hunger wouldn't hit her so hard tonight. Maybe she could beat this thing and come out on the other side with a real life with someone who cared. As long as she didn't take his blood, they had a chance.

Lavender suited her. The dark rush of her skin against the pale color just twisted him in knots as he watched her practically inhale her steak. Just when he thought he had her all figured out, he learned something fabulously new about her.

He could almost see her coffee-brown nipples through the sheer fabric of her dress, could remember what every inch of her smooth skin felt like, and that scent, and the way she'd gathered up her hair into one easy-to-make-fall bun. He had to remember to stick his fork in his food and cut it, bring it up to his mouth, then chew it. Where she'd bitten him still burned and the signal resonated in his groin like reverb. It had been damn sexy. Suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore. Just watching her made a whole other hunger surface—the one he had for her.

But as he stared at her, many thoughts came to his mind. Reality was trying to blow the groove. He could hear them talking about rains hitting Texas soon. He was traveling by bike. Before her, that wouldn't have been a problem, yet there was no way he could put her on his bike in a driving rain. And if they had to hole up for a few days in a motel, that would eat into his shrinking budget.

The original plan had been to hit the races in Arizona, the money in his pocket was for incidentals, Snake was gonna cover his room and board… which meant that he needed a way to make some cash along the way to travel with her right. He couldn't take her to the roadside joints he and the fellas would crash at. He couldn't take her to some biker hangout trailer in the back woods where for a pound of weed they could stay for free and drink.

The preacher had had a point: they had to keep to the main highways, especially if they were on the move at night. And it wasn't about getting some side mechanic work around these parts—everybody knew how to go under the hood. Being a good mechanic was a matter of supply and demand. In L.A. there were a lot of cars and a lot of people who didn't know squat about how to fix them. But in no-man's-land, everybody could fix their car, do plumbing, carpentry work, hunt and shoot, and pretty much do whatever needed to be done—or they had a brother or cousin who could.

Rider rubbed his face with both palms. A cigarette was calling his name, so was Jack Daniel's. Since he'd put out the last butt before he'd gotten to the preacher's house, he hadn't even broken the seal on the carton he'd bought in town. He looked at Tara as she ate the last of her steak. Riding with a woman in tow was much more expensive, was much slower, but worth every damned minute. The question was, how to make it work?

"You look tired," she said, dabbing the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

"Just need a smoke," he said, stretching and trying to let his brain rest.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," she said quietly. "It's bad for your health, and I want you to live for a long time."

He wanted to lean across the table and kiss her, but thought better of it, given where they were. He smiled instead. "I'm going to live forever, don't you know that, darlin'?"

Her eyes held his, suddenly deadly serious. "Do you want to?"

Desire slammed him full force. "With you? Yes…" He could feel desire come back with a vengeance. "Let's get out of here. We can hit the road tomorrow morning."

"We might have to travel at night," she said with hesitation. "I'm better then, have more energy. Sometimes the sunlight saps my strength."

He smiled and allowed his gaze to rake her. Then he leaned forward and dropped his voice to a low, private murmur. "You don't need strength. You just hold on, baby, and leave the driving to me."

She just shook her head and smiled.

CHAPTER 5

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She'd set a slow flame to every inch of him; had left no section of him unbranded. There had been moments during the night when he knew he was losing consciousness. She'd made obscure parts of him literally come alive in her mouth… the veins at his wrist, the insides of his elbows. When she'd nuzzled his femoral artery going down on him, he'd nearly blacked out. If this was what they taught healers, he'd convert to whatever religion her people espoused and would smoke peyote and live the quiet life. If she wanted him to go on a spirit walk in the wilderness, so be it, just as long as she kept loving him like this.

Even as he briefly slept, she was inside his head, calling him, loving him, arching under his hold. He'd ejaculated in his sleep, and had awakened to her kiss at his throat, which only started the whole crazy thing all over again. He couldn't stop if he'd wanted to; could no more reach for that damned box in the bag across the room if his life depended on it. Right now she was air. Right now she was the very blood in his veins. She was his pulse. Was his heartbeat, and the reason to draw another breath. Crazy about her didn't begin to define or do justice to what had happened. He'd lost his mind completely, and didn't care one whit that he had.

He pulled his mouth away from her neck, his hands threaded through her dark tendrils as he peered up at her, exhausted.

"Are you all right?" she whispered, giving him a sexy, sated smile before gently kissing him. "I'm not scaring you yet, am I?"

"No," he murmured. "Just don't stop."

"I have to get some rest. It's going to be dawn in a couple of hours. You have to rest, too, if we're going to push on from here."

He flipped her to lie beneath him, looking down at her, his arms trembling at either side of her shoulders. "You are so beautiful," he whispered. "You have this effect on me that I can't explain… I'm sorry I lied to you when I said I'd pull out. Baby, I meant to every time, but couldn't. You're like an addiction."

She smiled and touched the side of his face, totally understanding what he was trying to say, and wishing with all her heart that she'd met him before. From the first time she laid eyes on him, she knew he was
the one
, just like his hazel irises now glittered with open desire. His pupils were dilated and every stroke of her hand made him shiver. Her gaze traveled down the broad chest, and her hands caressed his thick shoulders and trailed down his strong, trembling arms. And his hands… pure strength and yet gentleness resided within them. She'd lost her voice too many times to count at the mercy of those hands.

She rubbed her legs up against his hard ones, reveling in the sensation as she slid one delicate foot over the tight steel of his buttocks. She watched new tears form in his eyes as he closed them and allowed his head to hang back. There was so much that she needed to tell him, so much truth she'd already told him that he just hadn't heard.

"When you look at me like that, it just runs all through me. You have no idea…" His voice had come out on a ragged murmur as he began moving against her again. "Just one more time."

She let her body answer his request. She could feel his soul bound so tightly with her own that she couldn't speak. They had shared the same dreams; he was inside her mind and heart as deeply as he was inside her body. They had lived a similar life, being different, gifted with something special, misunderstood and feared, yet this man with a good heart had found her. They were opposites in so many ways, but so much the same. He was tall, she was short; she was dark, he was light; they were both on the run, had no family to speak of, were protecting each other, wanted a better life. Respect was the common glue, and she tried to siphon away all the hurt and pain and misery his life had been before her through her touch and her bites, without breaking his skin.

He'd tasted every part of her, had revered every inch of her skin, the heat of his mouth searing her. Every one of his shudders was hers. Every sensation traveling down his spinal cord, she felt. Every time he'd orgasm, he'd send her hurtling into a multiple spasm of ecstasy of her own. How was she going to disappear one night and leave this, leave him? They had to find a cure. Time was speeding up, and he was slowing it down as though he could stop it just for them.

Yet, as his hand covered one of her breasts and his lips found the other and he moved against her, the issue of time slid from her mind…

He blanketed her again and thrust hard. She gasped his name. He responded with a hard bite at her throat and she saw colors behind her lids. He moved against her smooth, controlled, slow, then he lost that control, his voice disintegrating into grunting chants of passion.

She couldn't stop her own panting, couldn't catch her breath, and couldn't stop the release that she was edging toward. She felt her incisors lower.

She arched hard, the crown of her head digging into the mattress, and she ran her tongue over her incisors to send them away, the razor edge of them cutting her tongue and drawing blood. Oh, no… It was starting, but she couldn't stop. He felt so good, her hands were shaking as she clutched at his back. Warm, salty blood filled her mouth. She screamed and he heaved in jerking spasms, then dropped on her like a dead weight.

It took her a moment to extricate herself from beneath him. She had to get out before he came back to himself completely. She needed to feed and she refused to feed from him.

Rider stirred, and blindly reached out for Tara, but drew his hand back, wanting. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at the clock. It was after checkout time. He pushed himself up slowly, yawned, and listened for her. Water was running. He relaxed and leaned forward on both forearms as his feet hit the floor. It felt like he had a hangover. Every inch of him was sore and reminded him of how much he'd abused his body. If he felt like that, then he could only imagine how Tara felt. Guilt swept through him. She was only a little, bitty thing, too. But heaven knew there was no way to control this wild relationship they had going.

He indulged his senses and pulled a deep inhale… The whole room smelled like her and sex.

The scent was staggering. It would always draw him to her like a bloodhound. He laughed—oh, yeah, he was whipped. She owned him. He'd heard about getting zapped with feminine mojo, but he'd never known it could be like this. He just hoped she felt the same way. Damn if he wasn't falling in love.

It took him two attempts to stand, and he squinted at the bright sunrays that were trying to push past the edges of the drapes. Yeah, he could understand her sensitivity to light.

He crossed the room and tapped on the door lightly. He rested his head against it, needing something sturdy to help hold him upright. "Tara, baby, I know this is a little strange, but I really need to get in there for a minute."

He waited, but she didn't answer. He knew women had delicate sensibilities about things like this, so he walked in a circle and tried her again.

"Honey, this is an emergency. Seriously."

"Okay," she said, her voice frail. "I'm in the shower."

Without hesitation he went into the dark room, not questioning the fact that the bathroom lights were out. That was a godsend, because his eyes couldn't take it, either. He put the seat up and stood before the porcelain throne holding the wall with one outstretched hand and holding himself as gingerly as he could, sighing with relief. There were some things a man could do blind, and he'd had plenty of practice taking dead aim the morning after a long night in a bar. He almost laughed at the thought; she was way better than Jack Daniel's, or anything else.

"If I flush, am I gonna mess up your water?" He'd even put down the lid. Oh, yeah, he was whipped.

"No, go ahead," she said quietly and turned off the tap.

"Good," he murmured, completing the task, then moving to the sink to wash his hands. Some breakfast, a cup of joe… more sweet lovemaking.

"Oh, what a night…" He almost fell asleep standing up at the sink with the water running. "I don't know if I can ride this morning; it's already past checkout, too." He leaned his forehead against the mirror, hoping that she'd understand his double meaning.

When she didn't answer he pushed away from the mirror, splashed some water on his face, and looked up. To his horror the only light in the room were two glowing orbs behind him that were her height. He froze.

"Don't be afraid," she said quietly. "But I can't go out in the sun anymore."

He spun so fast that he almost shattered the mirror with his elbow as he slapped on the light.

She immediately covered her eyes with her hands and turned away. "Turn it off!"

"Oh,
bullshit
," he said, backing toward the door and touching the sides of his neck.

Her body looked normal, except that she was shivering and had goose bumps covering her skin. His gaze scanned her frantically, while hovering in the doorway ready to bolt.

She turned to him slowly, and brought her hands away from her face in gradual increments. She looked like she was about to keel over. Half of him wanted to go to her; the other half of him was transfixed where he stood. She looked like a junkie. Her beautiful eyes had dark circles under them. Her gorgeous lips were nearly blue. Her once-fantastic coloring was ashen, and her hair looked wiry and brittle. He almost wept as he went to her.

"Oh, Jesus, what's the matter?"

She pulled away from him and cringed when his fingers trembled at her cheek.

"I'm so sick," she whispered. "I have to get there before it's too late."

She felt for his hand when he extended it, as though she were blind, and he helped her out of the tub and sat her down on the toilet seat, then lifted her chin with his finger and stared into her eyes. Her once-beautiful eyes had a bluish-gray seal over them like an old person's with cataracts.

"I'm blind," she whispered, feeling for his face. "I opened the curtain and the sunlight…" Her voice broke off with a sob.

He turned her throat to the side and saw two puncture marks on it and ran his fingers over the fresh wound. "Did I do that? Did I do that to you last night? Oh, shit!" He turned her wrists over, and then looked at the insides of her elbows, terror coursing through him by the second. Every major pulse point on her was scored, and witnessing it dropped him to his knees. His head found her lap. "Oh… baby… I swear I didn't mean to hurt you like that. I don't even remember."

"You didn't do it," she whispered, absently stroking his hair. "I went out last night while you slept."

Her confession snapped his head up and he looked at her blind eyes, holding her upper arms tightly. "What!"

"I needed human blood," she said quietly. "There are only a few ways to get it."

He stood slowly and then sat on the edge of the tub. There were no words. His mind couldn't process the madness fast enough. What was she talking about! Some crazy ritual?

"If I take an innocent, I'm damned. You're an innocent, Rider. Last night, I felt my gums rip. The teeth didn't come all the way down, and I haven't died, so I have time. But the hunger is like an acid burn inside your intestines that will eat them away until you satisfy it. The animal blood isn't working anymore. That's why I keep throwing up; even the steak didn't stay down. When the hunger came, I could feel it coming back up, so I left the room… I didn't want to hurt any of the townspeople—they're innocents, too. So I had to get real blood the only other way…"

"What the hell is that?" he said, standing quickly.

"I went to the one who made me like this, and fed from his veins."

The incomprehensible lodged in his throat. Irrational jealousy swept through him as he looked at her bite marks; the one by her femoral artery twisted him up the most. She instinctively knew where his gaze had traveled and she tried to hide the wound with her hand. He instantly understood her erogenous zones, and why a kiss at her throat would make her shudder. It was a painful comprehension that carved a section out of his brain. He didn't know how he knew, but he did.

His fist went through the bathroom door and came away bleeding. She swallowed hard, as though the scent were making her salivate. He now understood what she'd been telling him all along. He had some insight into how these things that were hunting her did a blood transaction. He watched her literally pull her blind gaze away from his bloodied fist and begin rocking.

Yet, the more she rocked with tears streaming down her face, the more his pulse points lit with a desire that was nearly beyond his will to fight. Her bottom lip quivered and the sensation made him want to offer her his throat. She pressed her knees together tightly and dropped her head back; he felt the phantom sensation of entering her sweep through his groin so brutally that he had to hold on to the edge of the sink and breathe through his mouth.

"I never meant to hurt you," she said on a choked whisper. "I tried to tell you, tried to warn you that you needed protection… and whatever you're feeling, it wasn't a feeding seduction. I wanted to make love to you for who you are, not for what you have… not for your blood."

A sense of violation spiked his fury, as he bitterly understood that there was a difference between an outright attack, and a seduction to feed. He wanted in the worst way to believe what she'd said, but as he began to hear his own pulse in his ears and she quietly moaned in a way that sent a hard spasm through his groin, he just couldn't.

"You want me to open up a damned vein, Tara? Answer me, now! Is that what you want me to do?" A sob cut off his words. He looked at her as she blindly followed the sound of his voice. "Because if that's what you need, baby… I'll do it—just ask, but you come to me." He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Don't ever go to that sonofabitch again!"

He held his skull with his fists. What was he saying! Then he watched her wrap her arms around herself and begin crying so hard that all he could do was turn into the broken door and sob. That was when he knew he'd spend the rest of his life hunting down these demons. He'd devote his existence to wiping every one of them from the face of the planet. They'd taken the only thing from him that really mattered, and he was helpless to do anything for her but bring her to some old Indian medicine men in the hills. He pounded on the door and pushed away from it. He refused to give her up without a fight. This was war.