The Order Boxed Set (39 page)

Piers Lamont perched on the edge of his desk. “So, Sister, what is it you remembered that was so important it brought you from the safety of the mother house?”

“I’m sure you are a man of God and I am equally safe here, Mr. Lamont.”

“Are you? How…trusting. And please, call me Piers. And I will call you…Sister. So?”

She cleared her throat. “The man at the convent. He said his name was Jack.”

“Did he now? And you forgot to mention that?”

“I didn’t know. It was Maria who remembered. She was exhausted last night.” She still was—Roz had left her sleeping. “Does it help?”

“It confirms something I suspected. Is that all—or did Maria remember anything else?”

“Not remembered, no, but there is something else.”

She’d thought about this carefully. She had to find Jessica and soon, but she assumed, from the little Asmodai had told her, that the Order would not get involved with missing humans unless the case impinged on their world in some way. So she had to make it appear as though the two worlds were close to colliding. She’d stopped off on the way here and spoken to Ryan, worked with a police artist and gotten a rough picture of Jack.

“And?” His voice was tinged with impatience. He was probably thinking about his nice, warm bed.

“I saw a news report last night. There’s a girl missing—the police have one of those made-up pictures—”

“An identikit picture?”

“Yes. Of the suspect, and I recognized him. It was the man—Jack.”

“Really?”

She nodded. There was a risk here, that they might check up and find she was lying. But she considered the risk worth it.

Piers drummed his fingers on the table then picked up the phone and punched in a number. “Graham—did I wake you again?” His lips twitched as he listened to the answer. “I have a job for you. Check out a missing person.” He glanced across at Roz. “Do you have a name?”

“Jessica Thomas.”

“Jessica Thomas. Just get the details, and I’ll talk to you later.”

He placed the phone down and leaned back, his hands resting on the desk behind him as he looked her over.

“So that’s business taken care of. What shall we do now, Sister?”

Oh Lord, had she ever heard a speech filled with so much innuendo? She fought down the little voice inside her that was screaming,
Take me, take me.

Instead, she smiled demurely. “I must be getting back to the mother house. Sister Maria is very anxious, and she likes me close.”

“I bet she does.”

He pushed himself to his feet, making her jump, and strolled slowly toward her, coming to a halt only inches away. She breathed in sharply, and her nostrils filled with a wild, musky scent that caused the muscles in her stomach to clench. Reaching out, he placed one long finger under her chin. His touch felt cool, and a shiver ran through her, but she didn’t object as he gently raised her head so she had no choice but to stare into his eyes. She had one quick peek and glanced quickly to the floor. The urge to close the space between them was almost overwhelming, and she bit down hard on her lower lip to concentrate her thoughts. The sweet metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, but the pain brought her back to herself.

His sharp indrawn breath sounded loud in her ears, and she glanced up quickly. His gaze was intent on her mouth, and she looked away from the hunger in his face.

Suddenly she knew what he was about to do—the mesmerizing thingy.

“Look into my eyes, Sister.”

It was a good thing she wasn’t looking into his eyes right then or he would have seen hers roll. How corny could you get?

She had to do this. She didn’t have a choice—she never had a choice, and she was starting to get pissed off at that. Carefully, she blanked her expression, raised her lashes, and gazed into his eyes. They were beautiful, so deep a blue they were almost black, and fringed with thick lashes.

For a moment, some dark force caught her, as though the very will was being sucked out of her. Her mind clouded, tendrils of mist wrapping themselves around her consciousness. Instinctively, she fought it, and the fog cleared slightly, enough so she was back in control of her own head.

She forced her mind back to Asmodai’s instructions and blinked a couple of times. Piers’ large hand hooked around the back of her neck and drew her closer. She didn’t fight. Hell, she might not be mesmerized, but she wanted this. Just one little taste, then she’d plant her bug and be out of there.

He was much taller than she was, and he lowered his head to lick the blood from her lower lip. At the touch of his tongue, heat shot along her nerve endings to pool at the base of her belly.

He straightened, and she caught sight of his eyes, glowing with hunger. “You taste so sweet.”

Fear slithered down her spine. She managed to keep it from her face; she’d had a lot of practice at hiding her emotions. What the fuck was he? But even as the question sounded in her mind, the answer flashed up in big neon letters.

Vampire.

She remembered her dream of last night—Jack drinking the blood of the missing girl. And she recognized what tied the two men together. They were both the same.

Holy crap, he was a vampire. Why the fuck hadn’t Asmodai warned her? He wouldn’t have sent her back here just to be killed, would he? Did he think her usefulness was over and this was his way of getting rid of her once and for all? But strangely, she didn’t believe that. She thought the demon, for all his wicked ways, had gained some slight affection for her over the centuries. Besides, from her dream she guessed the vampire, Jack, had drunk from the missing girl numerous times, and she still lived, or at least had as of last night.

She had to let him do this; otherwise, it would be obvious she wasn’t under his power.

Would it hurt?

Would she be able to maintain the pretense if he hurt her? She had to.

“Come here.” He dragged her closer. His hands gripped her shoulders then he lowered his head again and kissed her. His mouth slanted over hers, his tongue pushing inside, filling her, and the heat in her belly burst into roaring flames.

Holy crap, but this guy could kiss. After the first thrust, she gave herself up to the sensual delight, the glide of his tongue against hers.

Her hips were pushing toward him and his mouth left hers.

“You like that?” he murmured. “You want more?” He laughed softly as his hands slid down the curve of her back to rest on her hips. He pulled her against him so she could feel the length of his erection pressing into her stomach, and moist heat flooded between her thighs. He breathed in. “Hmm, the scent of sex-starved nun—one of my personal favorites. But unfortunately, I’m afraid my brand of ethics won’t allow me to take you while you’re under my influence.”

Roz very nearly screamed. What did he mean? And what sort of vampire had ethics? Weren’t they evil creatures of the night, preying on the innocent? Well, she might not be innocent, but he didn’t know that.

“Sister, raise your head.”

She did as she was told. His eyes still blazed with hunger. She’d thought he was finished with her, but obviously, while his ethics wouldn’t let him shag her, they weren’t about to stop him from eating her.

One long lean finger ran down her throat, leaving a trail of fire. Fear churned inside her, and she forced her mind to blank as though she really was in his thrall. His fingertip rested against her racing pulse, and then he lowered his head and kissed her there.

A small moan escaped her lips as heat streaked along her nerve endings.

He stroked her with his tongue, tasting her, then with no other warning, he sank his fangs into the flesh of her throat.

She went instantly still, waiting for the pain. But there was nothing until the first tug as he drew her blood from her vein. She felt it like an arrow of pleasure straight to her groin.

His hands were stoking her back, shifting lower to the curve of her ass, fingers digging in, kneading her flesh in time with the tugging pull at her throat. A pulse was beating between her thighs. It was as though he was inside her, deep inside, and her muscles were clenching, tightening, pleasure spiraling.

Oh Christ, she was coming. Just from the tug of his mouth at her throat, his hands on her ass. Her body went rigid as he pulled her closer and rubbed his shaft against her, and she came in an explosion of pleasure so intense she almost blacked out.

When she came back to her senses, she was lying on the sofa across from the desk. She half-opened her eyes and peered up at Piers from under her lashes. He was staring down at her, a strange calculating expression in his dark eyes.

“Just what are you, Sister?” he murmured.

How the hell should I know?

The words hovered on her lips but she bit them back. Her throat ached, and she felt a little light-headed, but otherwise she was fine. In fact, she felt fantastic, her body still buzzing from what had to be just about the most powerful orgasm she had had in five hundred years. Wow. She closed her eyes as residual tremors of pleasure ran through her body.

She could sense him studying her; she had to pull herself together because she still had the bug to plant. She’d decided where—underneath the desk where the leg met the top—but she just needed a chance to slip it there.

So, how would a nun react to a mind-blowing orgasm?

She blinked a few times, then forced herself to sit up, ran a hand across her face. “What did you do to me?”

“Why? Did you like it?” He leaned closer. “Would you like to do it again?”

Cocky bastard. So sure of himself.

“I don’t know. I feel strange.”

He studied her for a moment. “You’re a little pale, but you’ll be fine. Come on, up you get.”

She pushed herself up and gauged how she felt. She was okay. Maybe just a little shaky, but she let herself sway as though she were unsteady. Reaching into the voluminous pocket of the robe, she gripped the tiny bug between her finger and thumb. A stumbling step brought her close to the desk, and she staggered. She rested her fingers on the smooth metal, bowed her head as though the effort was too much, and slipped the bug under the desktop.

And dropped it.

Shit.
She bit her lip to stop the word from tumbling out.

“I feel faint,” she mumbled and sank to her knees, groping the cool floor until she found the bug. Gripping onto the edge of the desk, she attached it, and then dragged herself to her feet. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” she muttered.

“Sit down for a while, Sister.” Piers was watching her, his brows drawn together in a small frown. She needed out of there. Fast.

“I really must get back.”

After studying her for a minute longer, he stepped up closer. Placing a finger under her chin, he raised her head so she had no choice but to stare into his eyes. “You will forget what happened here,” he murmured.

Like hell I will.

“When you leave this room, you will remember only that you gave me the information and left.”

Yeah, like that’s going to happen
.

She nodded serenely.

He stroked a finger down the curve of her cheek. “But when this…mess is sorted out, I’ll be paying a visit to the mother house, and we’ll get to know each other a whole lot better. Would you like that?”

Creep.

A knock at the door saved her from answering. Graham poked his head around.

“You called, Oh lord and master?”

Piers smirked. “I think the sister is ready to leave now. Would you see her out?”

Graham’s gaze went straight to her throat, and she narrowly resisted the urge to reach up and touch the wound. He entered the room and handed Piers a file—presumably relating to Jessica Thomas. At least she hoped so.

“No problem. Sister?”

Yup, she was ready to go. But as she turned to leave, Piers spoke. “Sister, we will meet again.”

The words sounded almost like a threat, and she swallowed down her nerves and curled her lips into the semblance of a smile. “If God so wishes.”

“Oh I don’t think God will have anything to do with it.”

A shiver of apprehension ran through her. Did he suspect her of something? Every cell screamed at her to run, but she kept her pace slow as she followed Graham out of the office. Her nerves held until she heard the door click shut behind her, when she almost sagged with relief.

Graham reached out a hand to steady her. “Are you okay, Sister?”

She forced a smile. “I’m fine. Mr. Lamont is just a little intense.”

Graham grinned. “Yeah, intense. Though I’ve heard him called other things.”

I’ll bet. Blood-sucking spawn of Satan probably fits quite well
. “I’ll be fine as soon as I get some fresh air.”

They were silent the rest of the way, Graham only speaking again as he held the glass door that led out onto the street.

“Goodbye, Sister. Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

Like never.
“Perhaps. And thank you for your help.”

She knew he was still watching as she walked away. Christ, she could murder a drink, but she could hardly walk into a bar dressed in this outfit. She’d have to wait until she got home.