Undying Embrace (11 page)

She swiped her fingertips under her eyes, going after the smudges of dark eyeliner that had to be present by now. Her head buzzed, and she pulled in a cleansing breath through her nostrils. She had to get her thoughts together. Logan deserved better than a drunken kiss-off. He was a good man—well, vampire. She shook her head. Any woman would be a fool not to fall into his arms. But despite the seven years she’d been with the Enclave and had worked with Logan…She didn’t love him, at least not with the passion she felt for the one male in this world that Logan despised.

“For not being able to return the feelings I know you have for me,” she started out saying, her reasoning strong, but the words ended up shaky at the end. His gaze darted from the table to her. She’d rather go another round back in the basement of Wicked Ways than have to hurt him. But this had to be said. “I care a great deal for you, Logan.”

“But you don’t love me.”

She captured her lower lip between her teeth. God, the way he dumped the words out there sounded so…cold.

Taking her hands in his, Logan’s gaze bore into hers. “But I love you, Elle. Maybe in time you would grow to love me in return.” He squeezed her fingers.

“Please, don’t make this worse.” She worked her hands free from his. “I don’t want to hurt you, but…”

Logan pushed from the table and onto his feet. “But what? Don’t tell me you love
him
.” The way he looked at her, and the way he said the words “love
him
,” it was as if the idea was vile and unthinkable. He shook his head, his long hair swaying. “Not after all the things I told you he was capable of.”

Elle launched from her seat. The legs of her chair squeaked from the shove against the linoleum. “What you told me happened more than a century ago.” She wrapped her hands around his upper arms. “I can’t turn my feelings off just because you say so. It doesn’t work like that, highlander.”

He opened his mouth as if to speak and then sealed his lips, his expression tortured. And it chewed away at her insides, because she was the source of his pain. Logan’s hand came up and he gently traced her cheek. On a deep breath, he seemed to find his words again. “You have no idea how much I wish I had the power to make that a reality. To be able to say, love me and not him, lass, and it would be so.”

She couldn’t halt the warm trail of tears down her cheeks. He lowered his head, placing his lips next to hers, and hovered. Her heart ached. He was there for the taking, waiting for her to make the next move. The proud warrior wasn’t going to beg or take what wasn’t his. It would be so easy to take the coward’s way out. She wouldn’t have to face the demons sitting all cozy in the back of her brain. Logan would wait. And she could too, since her body didn’t go up in flames every time Logan was near.

His lips touched hers, lightly skating the surface. Her stomach roiled.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
She yanked her lips from his. His eyes cleared, and the hardened Enclave warrior put back up his shield.

“Is this what this trip was all about? You lied about visiting your sister, so you could see him?”

“Oh my God. You’re
so
off base.” Turning away, she grabbed the bottle of tequila again.

“Then why don’t you educate me?”

The liquor sloshed into the cup in one large splash. She screwed the cap back on the bottle and fell back into her seat. It wasn’t the most gracious descent, but she didn’t feel like a lady tonight. She felt like a miserable bitch who needed to get a hell of a lot more drunk. Elle tossed the shot of Gold to the back of her throat and swallowed the mouthful in one gulp.

“For your information”—Elle began after the burn had passed—”I did come here for my sister, except it wasn’t to visit with her”—she glanced up. Logan stood leaning against the door of the refrigerator, his attention centered on her—”it was to find her.”

“Your sister’s missing?” He straightened, stepped forward, and gripped the back of the kitchen chair. “For how long?”

She shrugged. “It’s hard to say. We didn’t stay in touch on a regular basis. But it’s been more than a month since her last e-mail.” Clasping her hands in front of her, she rested her chin against her fingers. “When I arrived, I went to where she’d told me she’d worked. She’s an esthetician and had a position at one of the local day spas. A perfect job for her. She was always the girly-girl who loved to play dress up, and I was the tomboy. God, I remember all the times she used to harass me to let her style my hair.” Her heart constricted, and she slammed the dam gates shut on the flood of memories threatening to take her down.
She would not cry. She would not cry
. Alex wasn’t dead. She would see her again.

As if he knew the battle she fought for control inside her head, he gave her a gentle smile, then spun the chair around and straddled it, facing her. “What did her employer say?” Logan’s brows drew down in concern, heaping another round of guilt into the growing swill in her stomach. It didn’t matter that she’d, for all intents and purposes, punched him in the gut with her declarations of undying love for another. Damn…he still cared. She tilted the bottle back and surveyed the remnants of liquor swirling at the bottom. Nope. There wasn’t enough tequila to wash away the shitty feeling swimming around inside her gut. With a long sigh, she settled the bottle back on the table.

“Her boss said she hadn’t seen her. She said Alex never came back to work after her vacation. They assumed she’d quit.”

“So that’s what you’ve been doing here all this time.” He shook his head. “Dammit, Elle, I can’t believe you would come here alone. You had no idea what had happened to her, lass. You could’ve been putting your life at risk.” He reached out again and took her hand in his.

“I’m a grown woman. I know how to take care of myself.” She smiled past the pain in her chest. “Thanks to you.”

Logan’s face lit up, and it was a sight she’d never tire of. Elle might not love him the way he needed and deserved to be loved, but she wanted him to be happy. And man, did he have a beautiful smile.

“Besides,” she said and pulled her hand back, wrapping it around her drink. “I would have called if the situation turned out to be something I felt I couldn’t handle. And if you want the whole truth…” She tapped the side of her cup. “I needed time away.”

“From me.”

She glanced up.
Yes and no
. The words cycled inside her head. It wasn’t that she was running from
him
, exactly. He had been pressing to make their relationship more, and she was nowhere near ready. She’d needed to get Arran out of her system. And that meant time away from the Enclave, and even though their location had changed, everything about the place reminded her of Arran. At that moment, the correct answer came to her. “For me.”

“But it doesn’t look like you’ve actually spent your time searching alone. How is it that our prodigal warrior found you here?”

“That’s kind of a long story, and one I’m sure he would like for me to keep to myself. But my sister is too important to me, and I care enough about Arran that I don’t want him making this a suicide mission.”

“This sounds like a story I’m not going to like, am I?”

“Oh, I think you’re going to like this news flash.”

Logan’s emerald gaze flashed. “You definitely have my attention.”

Moving her cup to the side, she leaned forward, forearms resting on the table. “This involves one very popular goth club called Wicked Ways and two vampires who played a disappearing act two years ago.”

Not long after she’d filled him in on everything that had happened so far, the warrior pulled his cell from his back jeans pocket. “Time to bring the others up to speed,” he stated, and pushed back from the table. After tapping a number from his call list, he placed the slim black device to his ear. In the silence of the kitchen, she didn’t miss the sound of a male voice.

“She’s fine, Commander,” Logan said, glancing at her. From the way he’d addressed the other vampire, he’d called Guerin first, the Enclave’s second in command. “I found Elle here at her sister’s, but that’s not all I’ve discovered. Guess who’s roosting among the humans of Fairfield?” He stood before continuing, pivoted, and braced one hand on the back of the chair, facing her. “Markus and Marguerite have taken over a colony here. Elle just filled me in on the details.”

Inhaling deeply, she reached over and palmed her now-empty cup, needing something to do with her hands. She could only imagine the litany of curses ringing Logan’s ear. She looked up and met his heated gaze, his knuckles blanching around his phone. “I’ll tell you exactly how she ran across Markus and Marguerite’s path,” he added. His jaw ticked, and he turned, deflecting his attention toward the kitchen window. “Arran.”

The plastic crunched under her fist. She knew the Enclave would come the moment she informed them about their enemies. But she didn’t have a choice. Having the team’s support was the only way she could save her sister, stop Markus and Marguerite, and keep Arran alive. Yet she had a nagging suspicion that when they arrived, Arran was not going to be pleased with her or their interference.

Chapter Nine

Tonight, the world would breathe a sigh of relief. With any luck, not one but two of its most vile creatures would cease to exist, and humanity would gain one small victory. Arran leaned into the curve on his Ninja that took him to Gabrielle’s sister’s house.

If Jean-Claude had delivered the message to Markus like a good little pigeon, then Gabrielle would hopefully find her sister or at least obtain some sense of closure regarding her disappearance. And then what? Gabrielle would leave. Return to the Enclave. To Logan.

He tried to ignore the burn in his chest that reoccurred every time he thought of letting her go. Logan was a vampire, same as him, but that’s where the similarities diverged. Logan was one of the good guys. She needed someone who could guide her through the pain of her past with a gentle touch. Someone whose hands weren’t contaminated by years of carrying out the
jobs
no one else had the guts to complete. A man whose body hadn’t spent years fucking whatever woman granted him a chance to escape for the few minutes he was inside her.

After rolling into one of the empty spaces in front of her building, he killed the engine and yanked his helmet off. The crisp night air with its low humidity was a rare, nice change of pace for a South Carolina summer. Jasmine bloomed somewhere nearby and filled the air so thickly, he could almost taste it on his tongue. He inhaled slowly through his nostrils, relishing the sweet smell. Another fragrance, one that made his blood hot, his body ache with a need so demanding, sometimes it nearly drove him out of mind, invaded his thoughts. Honeysuckle. He groaned. If only it were that scent flooding his senses, he’d immerse himself in it—in her—and never come up for air.

Shake it off, vampire.

Arran slid from his bike. That one taste he’d had of her the other night would have to be enough. He rolled the memory of her flavor over his tongue. His cock swelled. It pulsed, rock hard and eager to bury itself in the source of the nectar he would never forget.
Christ
. He willed his desire to recede, thrusting it into the back of his mind. Tonight was about one thing only, bringing down Markus and Marguerite.

Two concrete steps took him up to her front door. The little minx thought she was going with him tonight. She wouldn’t like it, but that wasn’t going to happen. He hadn’t corrected her assumption last night after he’d brought her home. She’d already tackled enough with Jean-Claude and his guard dogs, and he hadn’t felt like another fight. Especially one like he knew he was about to have in the next five minutes.

The door opened after his second knock. The breeze that followed, coming from around her, washed over him. And brought his blood to near boiling. Just. Like. That. Arran white-knuckled the doorjamb. The large strip of wood was the only thing that kept him from grabbing her, spinning her around, and shoving her to the floor. With her ass in the air, and his cock in his hand, he’d…

“Arran? Hello…” Gabrielle’s voice crashed through the thrall of his fantasy. He shook his head and blinked. “Are you coming in or not?” In faded jeans and a tight navy T-shirt that hugged the curves of her bust, Gabrielle stood there, holding the door open. Oh yeah, he was coming, all right. But that would have to wait till later.

Dropping his hold on the door frame, he stepped into the foyer. “You got any coffee?” He kept moving toward the back of the apartment where he assumed the kitchen was.

“Yes, I do. But wait a minute. I have to tell you something first.” He slowed and glanced over his shoulder.

“Can’t you tell me in the kitchen? I ran out at my place.” He wheeled his head back around toward the kitchen, and his boots slammed to a halt. “What the fuck are
you
doing here?”

Logan stood in the kitchen doorway and raised a mug to his lips. A smug grin turned up one corner of his mouth as he lowered his hand and then propped his shoulder against the arched entrance.

“He’s here because he hadn’t heard from me and was making sure I was okay.” Gabrielle’s voice came up on Arran from behind.

“I think he can tell you’re just fine,” Arran said, raking her with his gaze as she moved past. He cut his eyes back to Logan. “So why the hell are you still here?”

Fire blazed once around the pupils of Logan’s eyes, then receded before he spoke. “I think you know why I’m still here. You care to share why the Enclave is the last to know about your find?”

Arran unplanted his feet and continued his path into the kitchen, following the roasted bean scent of the coffee to its source. He grabbed a mug and poured. Logan could fucking wait for his answer. He needed his dose of caffeine. Not that it did any damn good to increase his energy or improve his mood. He drank it because he liked the taste and… Why the hell not? He brought the cup up and took one long sip, then eased around and rested his back against the counter.

“As I recall, I don’t fucking report to the Enclave anymore,” Arran said, keeping his face an impassive mask. He could almost hear the enamel grinding under the tension Logan had generated in the hard set of his jaw. One second, the other warrior was on the opposite side of the table, the next, he was six inches from Arran’s face. “Nice blur job, highlander. Wanna race?”

“Christ, you’re such a fucking bastard. I never understood why Kenric brought you on board.”

“That makes two of us.” Arran brought his free hand up and shoved it into Logan’s chest. “Now get the hell out of my face.” Logan stumbled back.

“Wrong move, vampire,” Logan roared and lunged. One hand seized Arran’s throat.

In the background, Gabrielle yelled. But Arran didn’t have time to decipher her words. His adrenaline had kicked in, and it worked a hell of a lot better than Wheaties as the breakfast of champions.

Swinging his arm up, he knocked Logan’s hand away. He grabbed Logan by the shirt and yanked him close. They bumped breastbones, putting Arran nose to nose with Logan’s face. “You want a piece of me?”

“Like yesterday.” Logan curled his upper lip back, flashing his fangs.

“Are you sure of that?” Arran growled, showing Logan a set of his own pearly whites. “Have you forgotten the last time you and me did this dance? I didn’t kill you then, but now…” Arran allowed his gaze to leave Logan’s, and it slid over Gabrielle, who now stood to his left, looking as if she were about two seconds from jumping between them.

Logan jerked loose from Arran’s hold. A blur of knuckles whizzed by Arran’s left eye and collided with his jaw. The shock wave radiated through his head like a Mack truck slamming into a Prius. And Arran’s face was the hybrid. The taste of his own blood exploded over his tongue.

Arran cranked his head back around. Logan worked the fingers of his right hand open and closed.
Yeah, I bet they hurt like a motherfucker. Bastard
. Rubbing his jaw, he tested the hinge. Nothing seemed broken. “You feel better now?”

Logan shot him a glare filled with bitter venom.

“I sure hope so, highlander, because that’s the last time you get to touch me and walk away alive.”

He sensed the attack before Logan ever moved. The twitch in his face, the flex of the muscle in his forearm, all telegraphed Logan wasn’t going to back down.

The dark-haired warrior went for the blade at his back.

Arran grabbed the one at his thigh.

Gabrielle screamed.

Logan came for Arran’s throat, his blade aimed straight for the carotid. He ducked and rolled, crashing into one of the kitchen chairs. It careened across the floor and slammed into the fridge. Logan spun. Arran jerked his second dagger from its sleeve. He reared his hand back, ready to launch it into his target. Logan charged. Arran swung. Someone stepped between them. Arran froze mid-release, his hand trembling with the effort to hold on to the hilt.

“Motherfucker—Are you insane?”

Gabrielle stood between them. He’d almost killed her. A thick layer of nausea bloomed inside his gut as he lowered his dagger, going for the sleeve at his thigh—and missed. On the second try, he sheathed the blade.
Christ.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this shaken.

“I’m sorry, it’s just—”

Arran grabbed her, cutting off her explanation. He didn’t ask permission. At that moment, he didn’t care if she liked it or not. He had to feel her heart beating next to his. Now.

Her body was the complete opposite of his. Soft and warm in all the places he was hard and cold. He could spend an eternity basking in the heat of her embrace. And have it not be enough. Shit, he was such a dreamer. Dreams were better left to humans who didn’t have a fucking clue that their worst nightmare stood on the other side of their window looking in. Waiting.

“I’m okay,” she whispered in his ear, snatching his mind back from the dark place in his head he’d climbed into. “You didn’t hurt me. I just wanted you both to stop before someone got hurt…or worse.”

“She said she’s fine, Arran. I think you can let her go now,” Logan said, his words coming out in a tight clip.

He gave Gabrielle another squeeze, half tempted to keep her in his arms, if for nothing more than the pleasure of pissing off the other vampire a bit more.

“As nice as this is,” she began, sounding like she’d been running uphill. “I’d love just a tad more oxygen, if you don’t mind.”

Arran released her and jumped back. “Damn, I didn’t realize I was holding you that tight.”

A sweet smile bloomed on her face. One that kicked hard, smack dab in the center of his chest. Who would have thought that a woman’s smile possessed more power to bring a man to his knees than another male’s fist?

“You have nothing to apologize for. It was nice.”

A groan, coming from Logan’s direction, filled the room. But it didn’t detract from the black-velvet-and-lace caress of Gabrielle’s words. They skated along his skin and slid home on the backside of his cock. He swallowed a moan. If her voice had this effect on his dick, he could only imagine the impact of her lips…and tongue. Fuck. He had to find something else to focus on. The doorbell rang.
Thank God.

“That must be them.” Logan headed in the direction of the door.

Arran grasped Gabrielle’s arm before she could follow. “Who the hell are ‘them’?” She glanced toward the front of the house, then back at Arran.

“The rest of the Enclave,” she muttered.

He drew back his hand, releasing her to join Logan at the door. Of course, it was the remaining few warriors of the Enclave. He should have known Logan wouldn’t have kept his mouth shut and let Arran settle the score with his former partner. Suicide mission or not, this had been his party, and the invitation had only been for two.

His fingernails lengthened and curved into claws. In his primal state, he yearned to barrel into the other room, snarling and snapping his way through the other warriors, forcing them out of Gabrielle’s sister’s home. His skin prickled with the need to mark and defend his territory. And he wasn’t only referring to Markus. He followed her backside with his gaze as she headed out of the kitchen. Her hips rocked, and her ass filled the rear of her jeans with delicious perfection. The desire to claim her rode him like a never-ending buzz. Hell, no. It wasn’t all about the fight with his former partner. His territory just walked into the other room. He rolled his shoulders, attempting to loosen the muscles that felt like boulders sitting at the base of his neck.

Arran strode out of the kitchen and followed the familiar voices of Kenric, Emily, Guerin, and Logan to the den. He stopped at the doorway. All heads swung in his direction.
Damn.
His heart galloped in his chest. As much as he wanted to bitch and complain about them stomping all over his territory, he didn’t realize how much he…
Ah, hell. Shit. It was good to see their faces again.
He clenched his fist, putting a tight rein on his emotions.

Kenric broke from the group first and met him at the door. He reached out with his palm open. “Arran. I’m glad to see you’re well.” Arran clasped the master’s hand and shook. From the other side of the room, Emily’s warm smile radiated in their direction. Her pleasure at seeing him with the Enclave was evident.

“Yes, it’s good to see you too,” Arran said and slipped his hand from Kenric’s.

“So, you’ve run across Markus and Marguerite.” Power radiated from the Master of the Enclave. Arran had almost forgotten how it felt to work with a master. He was literally a force that reached inside you and wanted—no, demanded—obedience. “I should have been informed you’d found them,” he said, then turned, working the leather of his glove between his fingers, and joined the other warriors.

Arran moved farther into the room. “Like I said the day I left. Markus was my partner, my responsibility. My right to get a piece of him first.”

The low growl that rolled from Kenric would’ve made children shake under their covers and piss in their beds. But Arran hadn’t been a child in a long time, and he already knew about the monsters that roamed the dark. Hell, he was one.

“That is not
your
call, Arran!” The Master’s image blurred, and then he was in Arran’s face. “You know what they did to the Enclave. And to my mate, for God’s sake. If anyone has a right to a piece of someone’s ass, it’s me.”

“Kenric.” Gabrielle’s voice cut through the tension in the room. His hard glare jumped from Arran to Gabrielle, and he softened. “We’re all here now. And tonight’s the night we’ve been waiting for. I think every one of us in this room has their own reason for wanting a piece of Marguerite and Markus.”

“That’s something we need to talk about,” Arran said and shifted his position to face Gabrielle.

“What do you mean, ‘we need to talk’?” Gabrielle propped her hands on her hips. Her eyes darkened, and her brows lowered, giving him a sexy as hell, I-dare-you look. God knew, he did love a dare. Too bad this wasn’t the time or place, or he’d show her who would win that bet.

“You’re not going tonight, Gabrielle.”

“Like hell.” Gabrielle hands dropped from her hips and curled into fists. “Watch me, vampire.” She uncoiled one hand and marched toward him until her index finger jammed into his chest. “My sister could be mixed up in the heart of this mess, and I’ll be damned if you”—she indicated the other warriors in the room with a brisk wave of her hand—
“
or anyone else in this room is going to keep me from Wicked Ways tonight.”