The Fangover (15 page)

“I’m going to step outside and call Cort,” he yelled into Stella’s ear. The deejay had the bass pumping and it was too loud to really communicate in the bar. He wanted to tell Cort what they’d seen on the video.

She nodded.

“Wait right here. Don’t go anywhere.”

She rolled her eyes.

Hey, a guy couldn’t be too careful.

Waving to the doorman, Wyatt stepped outside and took a few steps down Conti to the relative quiet. He dialed Cort. “Hey, man, what’s up?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t found out jack.”

“Well, we’ve figured out the priest with us last night who supposedly married you is really a stripper. I don’t think that’s legal and binding.”

“For real?”

“Yeah, so you’re off the hook.” Not that Katie the washboard player wasn’t a cute girl, because she was, but marriage was a big step. Or so he’d been told. Wyatt had never taken the plunge himself.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Cort didn’t sound nearly as thrilled as Wyatt would have expected him to. But he had more important things to worry about. “Hey, you ever hear anything about Johnny or Saxon owing Raven money?”

“No. Why?”

“Saxon got roughed up by Raven, who said Saxon owes him some cash. Did you know Johnny was seeing a girl?”

“Johnny was always seeing a girl.”

Good point. “This one’s name was Bambi. Ring any bells?”

“Uh, no. That one I would remember. Look, I gotta go. The parrot keeps trying to peck my balls. I swear, I’m going to kill this thing.”

Wyatt fought the urge to cross his legs. Yikes. He valued his testicles highly himself. “Alright, I’ll talk to you later.”

Putting his phone back in his pocket, he went back into the bar.

Only to discover that Stella and Saxon were not there.

They were gone.

Chapter Fourteen

THE CALL OF THE RAVEN

S
TELLA
played Rock, Paper, Scissors with Saxon and wondered when this night was going to end. She wanted to go back to bed and sleep for two days. She wanted to wake up next to Wyatt, tucked in warm and cozy under his arm.

That thought made her push up off the beer tub and stand up straight. She did?

“One, two, three.” Saxon threw out paper.

She did rock.

“Ha-ha!” he said.

But she was barely paying attention. She was wondering if her feelings for Wyatt were confused by Johnny’s death. Maybe she just wanted comfort, companionship. It wouldn’t be fair to Wyatt to lead him on if that was the case. But how was she supposed to know for sure? It wasn’t like she had any real experience with relationships. She’d never been in love. She’d been in lust. She’d had crushes. But true, deep, soul mate kind of love, that she’d never experienced. Which was kind of pathetic, now that she thought about it. How had she gotten to be more than a hundred years old and never fallen in love? Or had a man fall in love with her?

Stella suddenly felt like she was going to cry. She swiped at her face. “Saxon, I have something in my eye.”

“Yeah, your finger.”

Oh, geez. She glared at him. “I’m going to the restroom to flush it out.” To cry in private in a stall. “I’ll be right back.”

She never made it to the restroom. When she got to the entrance, arms around her waist yanked her up the stairs and into the back room.

“What the hell?” Stella kicked and elbowed whoever had grabbed her. It had to be a vampire because he didn’t let go. A mortal would have been doubled over from the impact and would have dropped her.

“Calm down.”

She whirled around and found herself face-to-face with Raven. “What are you doing?” Shoving at him, she said, “Get your hands off of me.”

He did let her go, but he blocked her entrance back into the bar. “Just give me a minute. I don’t want to hurt you, Stella.”

“You punched Saxon,” she said dryly, arms loose and at her sides. She hadn’t been in a lot of altercations but she did know how to defend herself if necessary.

“He owes me money.”

“Hitting Saxon is like kicking a kitten.”

“He borrowed five hundred bucks last night and blew it at the casino. When I asked him when he could pay me back he told me money is the root of all evil. It got worse from there. Having a conversation with him is like talking to a stoned twelve-year-old.”

Well, Raven did have a point. “Five hundred bucks is a lot of money,” she said begrudgingly. “And I’ll talk to him about paying you back. But please refrain from punching those less mentally fortunate than yourself.”

“Okay, sorry. He just irritated me.”

Stella sighed. Saxon was irritating, she couldn’t deny it. “Was there something else you wanted?” Raven didn’t look like he was quite done with the conversation, but frankly, she was. She wanted to find Wyatt and go home. With Wyatt. There, she’d admitted it.

She wanted to cuddle with him. Feel his strong arms around her supporting her while she relaxed and slept off the remnants of this wicked hangover.

“I wanted to ask you out.”

“What?” Stella just stared at him. She’d known Raven for at least twenty years and he’d never once expressed any interest in her. Not that she had noticed. Why did that always happen? You went years without any male interest and then suddenly they were crawling out of the woodwork. It was like they could smell competition and it roused them into action.

“You know, with Johnny’s death and everything, it just made me think that this isn’t forever, you know? That we need to live each night to the fullest.”

She’d never thought of Raven as a deep guy and he looked uncomfortable with the words coming out of his own mouth. She wasn’t sure what to make of the whole thing. Raven was a hedonist. Having him interested in her was just hard to believe. “I can definitely appreciate what you’re saying. But now isn’t a good time.”

“It’s Axelrod, isn’t it? You’re seeing him.”

“I wouldn’t say that precisely.” She wasn’t sure what she and Wyatt were doing.

“Shit, I knew it. I guess I shouldn’t have dragged my feet. Same with the washboard player. I’m striking out all over the place.”

Raven had been eyeing Katie, too? That was flattering to think that she was just one of a number of women on his list. Charming guy, that Raven. “Sorry. Hey, do you know Bambi, the girl my brother was dating?” It seemed likely that Raven would know a stripper and Saxon had mentioned something about Raven shooting Bambi.

“Sure.”

“Do you know where she is tonight?”

“She was at Erin Rose fifteen minutes ago.” Raven glanced back into the bar. “I have to go back onstage.”

Stella nodded. “You ever want to shoot her?”

Raven started. “What? Why the hell would I do that? Are you okay, Stella?”

Not really.

She couldn’t decide if Raven was the type to drug them or not. He certainly wasn’t acting sinister, just more like a douche bag. She decided to see if she could get a reaction from him. “Johnny’s blood vial is missing. Have you seen it?”

Raven gave her a long look. “No. I would hunt that down if I were you. Not a good thing to lose track of.”

Stella wasn’t sure what that meant but before she could question him further Raven was gone, taking the steps two at a time onto the stage and picking up his guitar.

Had he seriously just cornered her in the storage room because he wanted to ask her out? It seemed suspect. But she didn’t really have any choice but to take him at face value.

She figured she could stop at the local bar across the street and see if she could find Bambi and ask her some questions. What, she wasn’t exactly sure. Pausing on the edge of the dance floor, she glanced around. No Wyatt. No Saxon. Seriously?

She went out the front door. Still no sign of either of them. Wyatt was the one who had told her so pointedly not to go anywhere and then he disappeared. Typical man. Couldn’t make up his mind.

If he thought she was going to stand around looking abandoned, he was crazy. A woman alone in a bar was a target for more stupidity than she was prepared to deal with tonight. Or any
more
stupidity than she was prepared to deal with.

Erin Rose was a hole in the wall. It always smelled like fried food and something else that she’d never quite been able to identify. The counters were sticky and the air stale, but the bartenders were awesome and it was a quiet place for locals who worked the street to sneak away from the raucous tourist places. Stella hadn’t been there in a while, but she waved to the bartender in the back. “Hey, what’s up, Peter?”

“Not much. How you been? Sorry to hear about Johnny.” The bartender was tall with dark hair and a slew of tattoos racing up and down his arms. He wiped the counter down with a rag as he gave her a look of sympathy.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Would this tightness in her chest ever go away?

She glanced around the bar. There was only one other woman in the room and a couple of guys. Taking a drink from Peter, who remembered that she preferred red wine, she changed stools, aligning herself next to the blonde, who glanced at her and gave a sharp smile.

“Hey, I know you,” she said. “You’re Johnny’s sister.”

“Yes, I am. Are you Bambi?”

That was greeted with a snort. “No, I am not that tramp. I’m Karen. I bartend at the Door. Day shift.”

That would explain why Stella didn’t know her. But how did she know Stella? “I guess you knew my brother?”

Karen waved her hand, an unlit cigarette between two fingers. “Just casually. He was a big flirt. Happy guy though. Never thought he would kill himself. That’s really sucky.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Stella shifted on her stool, studying the vibrant blue eyeliner Karen had penciled in uneven lines above each of her eyes. “So Bambi is a tramp?”

“Totally. I kinda had a thing for Johnny but then I realized that he wasn’t my type because he always went for chicks like Bambi. Double-D disasters. Not my scene, you know?”

Oh, yeah. She wasn’t into that scene. As her less than buxom chest proved. She puffed it out to show Karen. “I prefer the natural look myself. Even if there isn’t much to look at.”

Karen laughed. “Me, too, girl.” Twisting in her chair, she shoved her chest to Stella. “A cup.”

Stella smiled, in harmony. Then almost fell off her stool as she focused on the necklace dangling just above Karen’s breasts.

It was Johnny’s blood vial.

What the hell.

“Where did you get that?” she asked shrilly, pointing to the necklace. Maybe she should proceed with caution, but she was too emotional to hold back.

“Huh? Get what?” Karen looked startled, and eased back on her stool away from Stella.

“That necklace.” Stella supposed it was technically possible that more than one person could have a skull pendant wrapping around a vial containing red liquid. Blood. It was possible. But not very freaking likely.

“Oh. Wyatt Axelrod gave it to me last night. Do you know him? He plays bass with Cort.”

Did she know him? Oh, she knew him. She knew every sorry inch of him. The scum-sucking, sexy, lying rat-bastard asshole. “That’s my brother’s necklace,” she told Karen, well aware that her voice sounded tight and venomous.

The other woman got a little defensive, which was probably natural under the circumstances. “Well, why would Wyatt have it? And why would he give it to me?”

That was the million-flipping-dollar question. “I want it back.” She held her hand out, all pretense of politeness gone. She was a vampire on the edge.

How could Wyatt play her like that? Pretending to be so concerned? Why had he lied about the necklace when he knew how much it meant to her? What did he really know about Johnny’s death and last night, and how could she possibly trust him?

“No way, you crazy bitch.” Karen picked up her bottle of beer and moved three stools over.

Stella followed her, anger driving blood into her face and making her temple pulse. She knew she needed to calm down, that Karen was an innocent bystander, mortal to boot, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “How do you know Wyatt? Have you had sex with him?”

She couldn’t even believe she’d just said that. Never in her entire long life had she uttered such confrontational and irrational words. If Wyatt had slept with Karen what business was it really of hers?

Peter had moved over to them. “Stella. You need to take it down a notch.”

Now she was being reprimanded by the bartender, which only served to piss her off further. “I’ll take it down when she answers the question. Actually, when she gives me Johnny’s necklace back.”

“I know your brother just died, but calm down, sweetie. Maybe you shouldn’t be out drinking tonight. You want me to call you a cab?”

Peter was being sweet and rational but Stella didn’t want to be rational. The world had ceased to be rational the second Johnny had purposely thrown open his curtains and barbequed himself. “No, I do not want a cab. I want that necklace.”

“It was given to me, fair and square. I’m not giving it back.”

“Bitch,” Stella accused. If someone wanted their dead brother’s necklace back, you should give it to them. It was just the decent thing to do.

“You’re the bitch. How do I know you’re even telling the truth?”

“Here’s the truth—I’m taking it.” Stella had spent her entire life being polite, doing the right thing, taking care of others. Being in control. She lost her control in one fell swoop when she reached over and yanked at the necklace, breaking the chain. Gripping it in her fist, she pulled it away from Karen, even as the woman screamed and grabbed for it.

“Stella, you need to leave,” Peter told her. “Or I’m calling the cops.”

“Fine. I’m leaving.” Now that she had the necklace. She pushed back off her stool and stuffed the necklace in the front pocket of her jeans.

What she didn’t anticipate was that not every woman spent her life restraining herself. Not every woman overthought things the way Stella did. Some women just reacted.

Like Karen.

Who jumped on Stella’s back and knocked her to the floor.

Chapter Fifteen

DO NOT DISTURB

S
HE
shouldn’t have said what she had, Katie thought as she followed Cort down the first side street and away from Bourbon.

She was willing to bet her admissions about how she’d felt about those pictures had freaked him out. As soon as she’d said it, she’d wanted to take the words back. Especially admitting she was disappointed and excited. He had to have realized what that meant. And even though she was embarrassed at admitting those feelings, the feelings were still there.

Even thinking about those pictures, she was excited by them. By being in his arms. By having kissed him. And she was bitterly disappointed she didn’t remember it. And of course she felt embarrassed and ashamed that she’d been that drunk or whatever had happened to them, period. But at least she wasn’t alone in her overindulgence.

Of course, that wasn’t making her feel any better.

Especially the way Cort was striding down the street like he couldn’t wait to get away from her.

She doubled her steps to catch up with him. He glanced at her and slowed his pace.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” she said, “if I said anything back there to make you . . . I—I guess I should have kept my feelings to myself.”

Cort’s gaze stayed focused ahead of him. “You can’t help the way you feel.”

Katie nodded, even though she knew Cort wouldn’t see it, but she couldn’t speak. She didn’t expect him to return her attraction. After all, he’d never shown any sign of interest before, but she also didn’t expect this reaction. He seemed almost—angry.

Talk about rejection. Her desire for him pissed him off. Wow. That was pretty harsh.

Neither spoke even as they stepped into Cort’s silent apartment. Cort immediately went to the bathroom, not even putting down the cookie jar or the bird.

He returned seconds later. “The priest is gone.”

“Oh.” Katie wasn’t sure what else to say. She knew Cort was disappointed. He wanted answers. But more important, he wanted to find out about the annulment. “You didn’t really expect him to still be there, did you?”

He gave her a long look, and for a second, she wondered if he knew more than he was telling her. But then he just crossed over to the kitchen counter and put down the cookie jar with more force than necessary. The bird cawed loudly at the sound.

“Get the fuck off me,” Cort yelled, shaking his arm. The bird cawed again, but flew away to perch on top of the refrigerator.

For some reason that was the last straw for Katie.

“You don’t have to take out your frustrations on the stupid bird,” she shouted. “I know you are angry with me. I know you are upset that I’m a vampire, because you feel responsible for me and you don’t want to. And I certainly know you are even more upset that we’re married. But most of all, I know you just want to be rid of me.”

Cort turned away from the counter, his usually sleepy eyes wide.

“Well, don’t you worry about it,” Katie continued, “I’m sure I can go to the courthouse or something and file the annulment. As far as being a vampire, there seems to be plenty of them in this city to get tips from, I won’t bother you. And right now, I’ll help you out with your last problem, too. I’m leaving, and you can forget any of this ever happened.”

She turned to leave, but before she could even take a step, Cort had grabbed her wrist.

“Is that what you think?” he said.

“Well, duh,” she responded, her unusual anger apparently making her childish, too. But she didn’t care. She was hurt and upset and scared.

And very, very mad at herself, because even in this state she was still altogether too aware of Cort’s hand on her skin.

“Katie, I’m not angry with you. Hell, none of this is your fault. I feel guilty that in one night, I turned your whole world upside down. But I don’t blame any of that on you.”

Katie stared up into his beautiful dark brown eyes, lost in his sorrowful expression.

“And I don’t blame you,” she said.

“I will admit I was hurt that you’re ashamed and disappointed to be married to me.”

Katie started to speak, but Cort raised a hand to stop her.

“I realize you can hardly be thrilled about finding yourself married to someone who is little more than a casual friend, but I will admit, hearing you use those words,” he shrugged, “they hurt. No one wants a person to be ashamed and embarrassed and disappointed about their marriage. Even an accidental one.”

Katie found herself smiling slightly at that description, even as she tried to absorb what he was saying.

He was hurt. She’d been hurt.

“I didn’t mean those words that way.”

He frowned. “How did you mean them?”

Katie wanted to groan. She supposed it was her surprise at his candidness that made her answer without measuring her words.

But he had been candid. Maybe it was time she was, too. Hadn’t she always said she wanted to be wilder, more rebellious?

Just tell him what you meant.

“I—I said I was embarrassed and ashamed, because I couldn’t remember anything about those pictures. That’s not me.”

Cort nodded. “I get that. It’s not me either. But why were you disappointed? Because the pictures didn’t give us more answers?”

Katie could have just said yes, that was why. But she wasn’t going to. Maybe it was time to admit her feelings for Cort. It had been three years of hiding her feelings. She was at the start of a new existence. Maybe it was time to tell him. He might reject her, he probably would, but given everything else that had happened, this seemed like as good a time as any.

“I was disappointed because I didn’t remember anything in those pictures.”

Cort didn’t speak for a moment, then he said, “You mean the partying?”

She shook her head. “No, I was disappointed—I am disappointed, because I can’t remember being held in your arms or kissing you.”

Cort was quiet again, and regret and panic spread through her chest, tight and painful. She shouldn’t have said anything. She wasn’t ready for rejection after all.

But just when she would have told him to forget what she said, he tugged the wrist he still held.

“Well that’s one thing we can fix right now.”

He pulled her against him, and his lips found hers as if they had a dozen times before.

And maybe they had, although that thought was quickly lost as she became overwhelmed by the masculine feel of him now, in this very moment. This was real. This was what she’d imagined for so long and now that he was touching her, kissing her, it was so much better than the pictures or even her imagination.

His lips explored hers, strong and soft at the same time. His hands moved up her arms, sending delicious chills throughout her body.

She whimpered, overcome, weak with her desire. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his shoulders, feeling his strength.

She moaned again as he deepened the kiss, his tongue finding hers. She could taste the lime from his drink, the tang of the fruit and him making her shiver. He was utterly delicious. They stood, bodies pressed together, lips moving hungrily over each other’s.

God, he was so much more amazing than she could have ever dreamed up in her overactive imagination.

“My darling I, can’t get enough of your love, babe.”

Okay, that wasn’t a part of her imagination. She’d never heard Barry White, ever, while kissing a man.

Had Cort heard that, too?

He lifted his head and shot a puzzled look around the room.

“Did you hear that?”

She nodded.

“Can’t get enough of your love, babe.”

They both looked up at the parrot, who was still perched on top of the fridge. It bobbed its head as soon as it saw them looking at it.

“I’ve thought about this so many times. Although we were never being serenaded by a klepto bird with a drinking problem, I must say.”

Katie looked up at him, stunned. He’d thought about this before.

“You don’t have to look so surprised,” he said, giving her a crooked smile. “I don’t think many men would think of seducing you with a bird present.”

“You thought of seducing me?”

His gaze held hers, dark and burning with his own desire. “Many, many times.”

His words thrilled her, as did the smooth, sexy cadence of his voice. She also noticed his words held more of an accent now. He had a slight, barely noticeable accent normally, but now it was thicker, becoming more pronounced with his desire.

That thrilled her, too. Longing swirled through her body even stronger. Everything about this man was so sexy.

Sinfully sexy. And she felt wicked in his arms.

And she liked it. It made her feel more daring, more brazen, and sexier herself.

“I have, too,” she told him. “I thought of this from the very first time I met you.”

She hesitated, her good-girl side resurfacing despite her goal to keep it under wraps, at least for tonight. But would he see that as rather stalker-ish. Or pathetic?

Instead he kissed her again, and all her concerns fled. Soon she was swept up again in her desire, her hands moving more frantically over his shoulders and arms and back.

“You’re the first, you’re the last, you’re my everything.”

Again Katie wasn’t sure if she was really hearing those words outside of her head. If not, she couldn’t deny that she could feel that way about Cort. He could easily be her everything.

She moaned as he lifted his head, not ready for his lips to leave hers again. He smiled sympathetically at her forlorn expression as he laced his fingers through hers and led her down the hallway.

Her lust-hazed brain realized he was taking her to his bedroom.

“I’m not making love to you for the first time in my kitchen,” Cort said with a lopsided smile. “I’m certainly not opposed to making love on the kitchen table. In fact, I’d love that. Just not for the first time. And not with that damned bird singing Barry White throughout the whole thing.”

She nodded, feeling tingly and dazed. She did agree the cawed Barry White was a little distracting. And she didn’t want anything diverting her attention from his man.

Her mind, fuzzy with desire and excitement and nervousness, still managed to lock onto something else. He said “first time.” She wasn’t sure if that implied there’d be more than one time, but then she decided not to analyze that now. Right now, she was going to thoroughly enjoy that she was getting a first time.

Then another thought occurred to her. “Maybe this isn’t our first time.”

He paused inside the doorway. He turned and looked at her, those sleepy eyes fringed by dark lashes that any woman would kill for. He released her hand and touched her cheek, brushing a lock of hair away from her cheek.

“I don’t know what we did last night. But I know I’m treating this like it’s the first time.”

She nodded. He was right.

He kissed her again, this time the kiss as sweet as it was sensual.

Vaguely Katie heard a noise behind her, but she didn’t connect what it was until another Barry White lyric filled the hallway behind them.

They parted again to find the parrot perched on the hall light that swung lopsidedly under its weight.

“Come on.” Cort ushered her into his room and quickly shut the door before the bird could follow them.

“I’m starting to feel like I’m in an Alfred Hitchcock film,” Cort muttered, and she had to laugh.

“Let’s be happy there’s only one bird.”

“True.”

They stood there smiling at each other for a moment, but quickly the atmosphere changed, sparking again with their awareness of each other.

Cort walked back over to her, again touching her cheek. “You are so beautiful.”

Katie had never considered herself beautiful. She was the average girl next door with her plain old blue eyes, hair that lingered somewhere between blonde and light brown and the smattering of freckles over the nose. She had an average figure, her breasts not too big, her hips maybe a little too wide, her weight average. But the way Cort looked at her now, she felt absolutely beautiful.

“You are beautiful, too,” she said, reaching out to touch his cheek. She loved the chiseled strength of his jawline, the slight rasp of stubble under her fingertips.

He smiled at her words, then captured her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm.

Katie could feel that kiss throughout her whole body. Every nerve ending tingled and sang at the sensation.

“I’m so aroused,” she whispered, stunned a simple, sweet kiss like that could stimulate her so much.

“That’s part of your change, too. We feel everything more, because of our state.”

She believed him, but she also knew it was him. Period. Maybe the vampirism heightened her senses, but she knew she’d have reacted to him just as readily as a mortal.

“Come here,” he said, pulling her over to his bed. He eased her down onto the tangle of bedding. Had they created this knot of sheets and blankets? Maybe.

But they definitely were going to do so now. Cort followed her down onto the bed, his mouth finding hers again. They kissed, their hands exploring again, this time slipping under their clothing, hands running over bare flesh.

She gasped at the rasp of his fingers over the lace of her bra, over the sensitive hardness of her nipple. But he didn’t rush, his hand sliding back down her belly, to the top of her jeans, then back up her belly.

She didn’t feel as capable of being patient. Her own hands stroked the smooth skin of his back, over his sinewy sides to his stomach and up his muscular chest. The skin there was smooth, too, except for the tiny poke of his nipples.

As hard as hers,
she thought with satisfaction, as she swirled a thumb around one of them.

He released a shuddering breath, revealing he liked her touch.

She liked it, too, but she was greedy for more of him. All of him.

Her hand slipped down his chest to discover a light dusting of hair that swirled around his navel and then narrowed downward into his jeans.

She followed the trail, her fingers moving to work at his belt. But his hand came down to cover hers.

“Not yet.”

She looked at him quizzically. He was going to make her wait? She’d waited three years already.