Undying Embrace (3 page)

“I’ve found someone to teach you what you need to know.” David glanced up. “You’ll be safe there. There won’t be any sexual demands.”

“When will they be here?”

“Jeremiah will be here in about an hour. But I do want something from you before I leave.” Arran braced one arm on the bark above David’s head. “Tell me everything you know about Commander Markus, including where I can find him.”

Chapter Two

“Wicked Ways…” Gabrielle Stevens allowed the name of the club to roll off her tongue. This was crazy. What had her sister been doing, hanging out in a club for goths? At least that was the story, according to one of Alexandria’s neighbors. Elle had knocked on every door of anyone Alex had ever mentioned in her e-mails and phone calls. No one had seen her sister for at least three weeks. The only lead left to check out was this club with the sinful name near Fairfield University, where someone had spotted Alex the weekend before she’d disappeared.

Sitting on the edge of her sister’s bed, Elle slid her feet into the new black leather, four-inch-heel boots she’d bought for tonight. So not her normal style. There was way more heel than she was used to, since she was already considered somewhat tall at five eight, but she had to admit they made her feel ultra-sexy. She leaned over and smoothed her hands along the buttery-soft cowhide encasing her calves up to her knees. Man, she did love the feel of nice leather. Elle eased to her feet and tested her balance. Okay, yeah, she could do this. The thin heels tapped against the hardwood floor as she made her way to the oak dresser sitting across from the bed.

The studded leather choker she’d purchased lay stretched across the glass top of the vanity. She trailed her fingers along the tips of the cool spiked metal and glanced into the mirror. With her hair pulled back, the pale jagged scars on the right side of her neck stood in sharp relief against her olive skin. On a slow inhale, she reached up and slid her fingertips over the bumpy surface of the ugly reminder that seven years hadn’t erased. Elle wrapped the wide band around her neck and tied the laces in the back. The width did its job. It left no visible evidence of her past.

The long black wig wasn’t exactly her color, but she had to look the part. She worked the pins into place, making sure it fit tight against her scalp, and tossed her head from side to side. The locks of blue-black hair fell past her shoulders. She stared into the mirror, the fake stud in her nose sparkling in the dresser’s lamplight. Damn, she looked different. The only thing that remained the same was the amber color of her eyes. She tilted her head and studied her reflection. It felt good to be someone else, even if for a little while.

A woman without a history—and a gaping hole in her heart left by a man who hadn’t cared enough to stick around.

“Oh God, Elle.” She threw the tube of blood-red lipstick at the vanity top. It pinged and bounced against the glass. “When are you going to purge Arran from your brain and move on?” Grabbing her ID off the top of the dresser, she whirled around, headed for the door, and added, “And how about you quit talking to yourself like you’re some sort of basket case.”

Forget Arran. Alex needs me and by God, I’m not going to let her down.

…

The blue digital clock on her dash read 12:00 when Elle rounded the corner at College Avenue and Dalton. Across the street from Wicked Ways, a black pickup pulled away from the curb. “Yes.”

Signaling, she changed lanes, and whipped her Lexus into the vacant spot. She glanced over at the bar’s exterior as she turned the engine off. A flashing neon-red forked tail, an extension of the letter
y
, directed traffic to the entrance. Subtle.

She grabbed her iPhone, preparing to squeeze it into her narrow purse, when it vibrated against her palm. Glancing down, the dark screen displayed
Logan
. It was the sixth time he’d called over the last two days. He cared so much about her. Yet every time he called, it meant another lie on her part. Sliding her finger across the screen, she accepted the call. “Hi, Logan.”

“Hello, beautiful.” His deep voice, sprinkled with a hint of a brogue, brought a smile to her face. “How’s my lovely lass this evening?”
Such a charmer.
She took a long, deep breath, needing every ounce of strength to get through another conversation and not give herself away.

“I’m fine. I take it you’re not on patrol tonight?”

“That would be a negative. I’m covering ops again, since our operations expert decided to jump ship for a little R & R. Still having a good time with your sister?” A creak of wood, like he’d shifted in a chair, punctuated the question. “Not ready to come back yet and rescue me from this godforsaken desk?”

“Sorry, big guy.” She laughed. “I think you and your highlander behind can last a few more days in front of the computer without me.”

“Maybe so, but I don’t know how much longer my heart will. I miss you, Elle.”

Oh, please, don’t go there
. She squeezed her eyelids closed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Finding her sister hadn’t been the only reason she’d taken some time away from the Enclave. Logan was tired of waiting. Moreover, she was tired of evading. This past year, he’d made it clear that he wanted to make her his. He was good to her. Tall and ruggedly handsome, he had emerald green eyes and long golden brown hair that fell to his waist. A body any woman would throw back the covers for and welcome into her bed.

She should be in love with him. Shouldn’t she?

“Elle? Lass, are you still there?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m still here. I’m sorry, Logan. My sister is calling me. I have to go. Good-bye.”

“Wait. Elle, I—”

Tapping
End Call
with her thumb, she dropped her forehead onto her palm. “Damn, damn, damn.” She hated this, but she didn’t want him here. She didn’t need the added pressure of dealing with what was in her heart, or not. Locating her sister was something she needed to handle alone. She and Alex had always taken care of each other. They’d had to. With a drug addict mother and a stepfather whose attentions had had nothing to do with love, they’d only had each other to cling to.

Elle stepped from the car and slammed the door shut. A soft
beep
and a flash of light from the headlights later, she dropped her keys into her purse and headed across the street. The closer she moved toward the club, the sound of her heels clicking against the pavement began to fade, drowned by the music rolling in waves off the exterior walls.

As she neared the door, what had to be a three-hundred-pound man with a purple Mohawk stepped in front of her. His gaze slid down her body, then back to her face.

She lifted a brow and held his stare. “Do you approve?”

One corner of his mouth curled. “Yeah”—his head bobbed into a slow nod—”I do.” He eased aside. She darted around him and into the dim corridor, releasing the breath trapped in her lungs.

Music thumped inside her chest like a heartbeat as she headed into the club. Farther inside, the scene was right out of the set of
Underworld
. Blood-reds and metallic blacks coated every surface that wasn’t mirrored. Strobe lights bounced off half-naked bodies writhing in blatant sexual innuendo on the dance floor. Welcome to nympho hell. Or heaven, depending on your point of view.

As a human who’d lived with vampires for the past seven years, she was accustomed to life on the dark side. But this… These kids had no idea what game they were playing. The reality of what they mimicked was no movie set. There were no dress rehearsals allowed. And there was no going back home to Mommy if you didn’t like what bit you. Literally.

Elle spotted an opening at the bar and shimmied onto the seat. A guy with arms that could probably bench-press Vin Diesel slid himself between her and the next seat. Tattoos covered his bare chest, depicting every colorful fetish imaginable. His hip brushed the exposed flesh of her thigh. She tugged at the hem of her leather micro, suddenly wishing she’d chosen to wear something more than what amounted to a matching bra and panties.

He leaned in, his bald head and multiple piercings glinting under the strobe lighting. “I haven’t seen you here before,” he said, the black loop jabbed through his lower lip bouncing with every syllable. Even though he hovered close enough for her to smell the beer on his breath, she had to strain to hear his words over the music.

“That’s because I haven’t been here before.” Smiling, she slid her sister’s picture from her purse and placed it on the counter beside her. “I’m looking for someone. Maybe you can help me?” She held the photograph up and tattoo man shoved away from the bar. “Hey, where are you going?” He walked away without a backward glance and blended into the crowd as Nine Inch Nails hit their chorus, declaring their intent of wanting to fuck like an animal. She groaned.
Shit.
She hoped not everyone was going to be as helpful as he was.

“What are you drinking?” She swung her head around at the sudden hoarse-sounding voice behind her. The bartender leaned toward her, both hands braced on the bar separating them. Wearing a buzz haircut and lacking piercing holes in his face, he didn’t fit in with the rest of the dark and creepy crowd.

Elle flipped up the image of her sister. “You ever see her around here?” His eyebrows shot up, followed by his eyes, which went up and over the photo and straight into her face.

“Why you want to know? You a cop or something?”

“She’s my sister. And no, I’m not a cop—or something.” Elle wiggled the photo. “Have you seen her?”

He shrugged. “Lady, I just serve ‘em the booze. I don’t babysit. Couldn’t tell you if I saw her or not.” He grabbed a bar cloth and mopped up the wet rings off the bar. “So are you drinking or wasting my time?”

Yeah. She was drinking. “I’ll have a Bud Light.” He nodded, headed toward the cooler, and she slipped the photo back in her purse.
Strike two
. At this rate, she’d end up with a serious case of whiplash.

Two pasty-white girls, dripping in chains and draped in black, crowded next to her in the spot tattoo man had vacated. They ordered beers, then in loud, overly excited voices started gushing about a hot guy who’d just sat down at the bar a few seats away. Each wanted to be the first to get a bite of him.

Curiosity had her glancing over to check out their version of a “hottie.” Her chest constricted, forcing her next breath to fight its way into her lungs. There was no mistaking that face, even though his hair was longer, below his shoulders, and the former deceptive halo of blond hair had been slashed with thick lines of black. It looked as though he’d dipped his hands in dye and raked them through his hair in an I-don’t-give-a-shit manner. Crazy. But striking.

And she’d have known him anywhere.

Arran MacLain.

He tipped his beer up to his lips for a swallow, drawing her attention to the dark shadow of hair along his jaw. He’d tied his hair back, and a large black-and-platinum cross swayed at his earlobe. She shook her head and squirmed in her seat. Damn, he looked even sexier than… Her mind raced back to the Enclave’s former headquarters and the last moment they’d shared together on the staircase. She strummed her nails against the glass bottle in her hand.

Forgettable.

Yeah, that was the word he’d used to describe their kiss. She had the sudden urge to march over there and bash her beer bottle over his head. Instead, she tossed back a gulp of the cold, bitter liquid.

Above her head, chilled air blew from the vent in the ceiling, a welcome temporary relief from the overheated bodies steaming up the crowded floor space. A lock of hair from her wig blew across her face. She brushed it back, making room for another sip of her beer, her eyes never leaving Arran’s face.

He went for his bottle again and lifted it to his mouth, but his arm stilled before the beer met his lips. She knew the moment he sensed her presence. His nostrils flared, and his beer made a slow descent back to the counter. Her heart hammered against her chest, and a shudder raced across her body. Another round of Nine Inch Nails’ haunting cry for help filled the room. Perfect timing. She had a feeling that in a few seconds, she was going to need it.

She should run.

Now.

So why didn’t she reach for her purse? As if time had slowed to a crawl, his head turned in her direction. His sage green gaze met hers, setting fire to the part of her soul that had been frozen since he’d walked out of her life.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Elle jumped at the unexpected growl in her ear. The familiar scent of warm leather and spice, one she would never forget, teased her nostrils.

God, help me.

When had he moved? Her eyes darted from the now-vacant location at the bar, to the spot over her shoulder. He leaned closer, bracing his body with one large palm against the edge of the bar, the other on the back of her stool. The warmth of his presence enveloped her, notching her temperature up. She tightened her grip on her beer, the chill of the glass doing little to calm the fever inside her.

She didn’t owe him an answer. Two years and that was how he greeted her? She dropped her gaze back to her bottle and took a
very
deliberate swig of her beer, hoping like hell that he
would
get his boxers in a wad. That is, if he wore any. The mouthful of beer staggered down her throat, almost choking her, but she recovered.
Oh no, brain. Do not go there.

“Gabrielle.” Her name was another growl in her ear. “What are you doing here?”

Elle eased the bottle back to the bar top, then swiveled her head to face him. She’d always loved the graceful lines of his face—a long, straight nose and chiseled jaw, to full lips any woman would be envious of. She risked a glance into his eyes. Pale green irises consumed her, surrounded by a thick fan of lashes so dark, he didn’t need to add the trademark goth eyeliner.

“You need a shave.” She traced her index finger along the curve of his bearded jaw. Electric tingles, like heat lightning on a hot summer night, traveled every nerve path straight to her core. She gasped and jerked her hand away. A rush of moisture gathered between her legs. Arran’s eyes widened, and his mouth parted, revealing the tips of two fangs.

His hand gripped her upper arm, his breath hot against her ear. “Come with me. Now.”

“I don’t think so.” She jerked against his hold, and he released her arm. His eyes squeezed shut. A few seconds passed before it looked like he’d gathered himself enough to open them. His next words came on the tail end of a long exhale.