When He Was Bad (14 page)

“This is nice.”

“Van got this for you,” Carrie stated on an exasperated sigh. “Don’t you remember?”

“Was that the day he got me the Zenith Z-171 PC?”

Jackie laughed and said, “You owe me twenty bucks, Van Holtz. I told you she liked that computer more than the forty thousand dollar’s worth of jewelry your brother got her.”

“What can jewelry do? Do you realize that PC is portable? And it’s battery powered with backlighting!”

“I don’t know why he bothers,” Carrie muttered before stepping away and looking Irene over. She shrugged. “I guess it’s the best we can do.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Don’t listen to her.” Jackie slapped a small bouquet of red roses and baby’s breath in her hands. “You look wonderful.”

A string quartet began to play and the She-wolves started walking into the ballroom single file.

“This is such a waste of time.”

“Irene, suck it up.”

“I have things to do!”

“What? And I don’t? Now stop whining and in ten seconds follow me down that aisle or so help me God, I will kick your lily-white ass!”

Jackie turned around and the pair paused, realizing they had the attention of all the guests.

Forcing a smile, Jackie whispered, “I’m so getting you for this later.”

Then she was off, slowly walking down the aisle, while Irene impatiently and quickly counted to ten. She followed after her friend and several times almost passed her. The third time, Jackie slammed her elbow into her gut, which effectively slowed Irene down.

When she finally reached Holtz’s side, he had tears streaming down his face, but she knew it wasn’t from the beauty of the moment.

“Stop laughing at me,” she whispered.

“Could you look more annoyed?” He laughed, keeping his head down while the priest or reverend or whatever droned about why the hell they were there.

“There are a myriad of things I could be doing at this moment. Useful, life-changing things. This is a waste of time.”

“Excuse me?” The priest/reverend/whatever snapped. “Do you mind?”

“Sorry,” Irene said and then added, “But feel free to pick up the pace.”

Which got a snort out of Holtz.

She lasted a good five minutes before her foot started tapping.

“Cut it out,” Holtz growled, although she had the feeling he was still laughing.

“I’m bored,” she whispered back. “Too much longer and I’m going to start taking things apart. And you know how you hate when I do that.”

“Speaking of which, what happened to my Mercedes?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I came home yesterday and it was nothing but burnt metal.”

“Oh. That. Yes, I wanted to see how engines worked. I walked away for a few minutes to get a glass of orange juice and when I came back…boom.”

“
Boom?
”

The priest/reverend/whatever cleared his throat.

“Sorry,” Holtz mumbled.

A few more lines about commitment and love and Holtz snarled under his breath, “What do you mean ‘boom’?”

“I was merely trying to see if I could get more speed out of it.”

“How much speed?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been toying with this idea of being able to travel from one country to the next in a car. I figure if you make it fast enough, it might hydroplane.”

“All right, that’s it. Stay away from my cars.”

“But you have so many.”

“
That’s not the point
!”

“Excuse me!” the priest/reverend/whatever snapped. “This is a sacred and time-honored ceremony, so do you think you two could act like it and shut the holy hell up?”

Annoyed, Irene tapped at the spot on her wrist where her watch would be if those vicious She-wolves hadn’t taken it off her. “Or you could speed it up. I’ve got things to do and your rambling is boring me!”

“Fine!” the priest/reverend/whatever yelled. “Do you?” he asked Holtz.

“Yup!”

“And you?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Ring?”

“Here.” Holtz placed the white-gold band next to the sizable diamond he’d insisted on getting her.

“Good. You’re married.”

“See?” Irene asked sweetly, just to annoy. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

For a second there, she really thought the man might hit her.

Van watched Irene work the room. For someone enormously bad with normal human relations, she really amazed him when it came to trying to get donations for the university.

He didn’t want her to work, but he knew he had to do something. During the toast portion of the evening, he realized she’d taken his watch off and had the back pried off.
A twenty thousand–dollar watch and she takes it apart.

Well, at least giving her a task had calmed her down. And she looked absolutely beautiful. Especially once she took her hair out of that bun. Stray hairs kept slipping out and she finally went to the bathroom and tore out all the pins. But he made a good choice with the dress since she couldn’t be bothered choosing her own beyond stating, “Nothing puffy like Princess Di wore.”

He should be annoyed. But he wasn’t. He loved that Irene couldn’t give a shit about their wedding. Because in the end it didn’t matter. With or without some piece of paper, they were together for life. No one else was as perfect for him as this one blindingly brilliant woman.

Irene walked back over to him but before she could drop into one of the chairs, he pulled her into his lap.

“You doing okay?”

“Yes. Mikolev Thornapple—an actual name, mind you—just promised ten thousand to the science department.” She looked down at him. “Are we going on a honeymoon?”

“Yep. Right after we’re done here.”

“Where?”

“Aruba.”

He had to bite his tongue when she frowned.

“Because my pasty butt does so well in the sun?”

Laughing, Van nipped her shoulder. “Switzerland, Germany, Norway, Scotland. We’ll be staying at lovely castles and B&Bs…all of them near very old, very
interesting
libraries.”

“You don’t mind me spending tons of time in stuffy old libraries?”

“Not if you promise to tell me anything interesting you learn…and you give me regular sex.”

“That is a promise I can commit to.”

“Figured.”

Suddenly Irene gently clasped his face between both her hands and kissed him. “As you may or may not know,” she said against his lips, “nearly 41 percent of all marriages end in divorce in this country. But I feel we’ll beat those odds simply because we’re so freakishly unusual and unstable enough to make this work. Especially with your unique DNA strain and my less-than-enthusiastic interest in legal actions of any kind.”

“Irene, you sweet talker, is that your way of saying we’re perfect for each other?”

“Yes. Wasn’t I clear? Also, we love each other and that’s most important. Because, really what
is
perfect? What does that—”

And Van kissed her before she could head down that longwinded road, happily wondering to himself how he
ever
got so lucky.

Cynthia Eden

For Megan and Laura—thanks, ladies,

for all that you do.

Miranda Shaw had understood that she was on the date from hell ever since the appetizers were served at the too-expensive restaurant and she’d caught sight of the tiny bugs crawling over her cocktail shrimp. But she didn’t truly realize just how bad the situation was until her date took her home and then attempted to bite her with two-inch-long fangs.

“Oh, my
God!”
She caught sight of the teeth just in time. She’d thought Paul Roberts was just in macho-aggressive mode. Moving in for a lick on her neck. Miranda had fully intended to jerk away from the guy before he made contact—

Then she saw his teeth.

Oh, hell, no
.

The scream that burst from her throat should have deafened him. Or at least broken one of the lovely glass picture windows that lined the front of her house.

But it did neither.

When she tried to run, Paul grabbed her arms, holding her tight. “Don’t make me hurt you,” he growled, and Miranda wondered if she were in the middle of some kind of really, really vivid nightmare, because there was no way that her boring, all-I-can-do-is-talk-about-myself date had just sprouted those deadly fangs.

Things like this so didn’t happen in nice, normally quiet Cherryville, Florida.

She twisted her body, trying to break free, but the guy’s grip was too damn strong.
Shit.
“What are you—
Ow!
”

His teeth had pierced her neck. Torn the skin. She shoved at him again, harder, and those teeth of his just seemed to cut deeper into her flesh.

Then she heard the muted sound of him swallowing.

He’s drinking my blood. The freak is actually drinking my blood.

Weakness began to trickle through her body. His hold was too powerful. Fear made her dizzy.
This shouldn’t be happening
. She’d done everything right. Talked to the guy over the Internet for a good two months before she’d met him in person.

He wasn’t supposed to be some kind of blood-drinking psychotic!

He was grunting now and making little moaning sounds, and she was pretty certain that she was going to pass out. At any moment.

Then the weirdo would probably kill her.

Not the way she’d been hoping her night would end.

I’m not going out like this.
Her neck was on fire. Her body quivered. But her Grandma Belle hadn’t raised a quitter.

Miranda managed to lift her knee and ram it as hard as she could into the jerk’s balls.

He stiffened against her, lifted those terrible teeth for just a moment—

And Miranda twisted like a snake, managed to break free of him, and then lunged for the door.

Just a few more feet…

If she could get outside, she might be able to get help. Or maybe her new neighbor, the
only
neighbor she had in the boondocks, would be able to help her and—

Paul grabbed her by the hair and hauled her back. She shrieked as he pulled her, reaching up with her hands and clawing his wrist.

“You’re going to be so damned sorry, you bi—” His snarled words ended in a gasp when her front door was literally kicked open.

Miranda blinked, stunned and damn grateful to see her neighbor of five days, Cain Lawson, standing in the doorway. Over six feet three inches of pissed-off male. Tousled coal-black hair. Handsome face etched into lines of fury.

He glanced first at her, then at the psycho still holding onto her hair with a death grip. Miranda was on her knees, scratching and clawing, and she didn’t think it was necessary, but she still screamed, “Help me!”

Then the really, truly unthinkable happened. Cain’s lips pulled back from his perfect white teeth and damned if those teeth didn’t look far too long and way too sharp for a human’s.

“Get the hell away from her, vampire!”

Vampire?
No, that wasn’t right. Vampires weren’t real and—

And blood was still dripping from the wounds in her neck.

She chilled as goosebumps rose on her flesh.

Date. From. Hell.

Paul laughed, a high, grating sound, and his hold tightened.

She’d be lucky to come out of this situation with her life, not to mention her hair.

“
You
get the hell out of here, before I decide to kill you, too,” Paul snarled.

Then his hands were on her throat. Only his fingernails felt too sharp. Like knives. Miranda stopped breathing, afraid that if she so much as moved, he’d slit her throat right open.

So much for trying to date one of the good guys.

If she made it through this mess, she’d go back to finding the normal asshole biker guys who were nice and safe. The ones who occasionally drove up from Miami looking for a fresh start, only to get burned out by the smalltown life less than a month later.

Cain lifted his hands and his nails started to grow. Lengthened. Sharpened.

Miranda blinked.
No way was this happening.

“Come and try, vampire,” Cain’s voice rumbled, dark and dangerous. “
Come and try.”
A muscle flexed along the strong width of Cain’s square jaw. His face was a tense mask, and his high cheekbones gave him a harsh, predatory appearance. His golden eyes were blazing. So bright. So fierce. So…

Glowing?

He growled, then leaped across the room in one fast move. A snap sounded right next to her ear and when Paul screamed, she realized the sharp noise had been the cracking of his wrist.

Then she was free. Cain jerked her forward, tossed her toward the couch, and the air she’d been holding escaped in a
whoosh.

Miranda scrambled around the cushions, turned back just in time to see the men crash to the floor in a heap of limbs and muscles. Snarls and growls escaped them, making the two seem more like animals fighting than humans.

She put her hand to her neck, wincing at the sting and the sticky feel of her blood.

She really hoped that Cain kicked Paul’s ass.

Fumbling, she managed to grab the phone on the end table beside her. Her fingers trembled as she dialed 911 and kept a wary eye on the men.

“911 operator. What’s your emergency?”

Paul kicked Cain off him, sending the taller man hurling back about five feet.

“I—I was attacked.”
Bitten by a freak.
Cain lunged for Paul. Swiped out with his hand and caught the other man along the face. Deep bloody grooves—Jesus, but what looked like
claw marks
—immediately appeared on Paul’s previously perfect right cheek.

Paul’s teeth snapped together. “
Shifter.”

What?

They were getting too close to her. Miranda jumped over the couch, keeping her fingers clenched around the phone.

The emergency operator was asking frantic questions in her ear, but Miranda couldn’t break her focus from the two vicious fighters long enough to answer her.

They were circling each other now. Cain bared his teeth. “She’s not for you, asshole.”

Paul laughed at that.

“101 Lakeview Street,” Miranda finally whispered to the operator and let the phone drop from her hand.

Paul was just a few feet away. The men were both pretty much ignoring her now, and if Paul kept his advance going, he’d be in front of her in seconds.

“Do you think she’s going to be yours?” Paul asked, voice that of the dull, annoying gentleman she’d had dinner with that evening. “Women like her don’t go for animals.”

Cain flexed his hands. “Yeah, well, they don’t tend to go for sadistic parasites, either.”

Miranda had no clue what they were talking about. Parasites? Animals?
What?
Keeping her gaze darting between her would-be rescuer and the biter, she began to edge to the left. Toward the very, very big crystal vase that Grandma Belle, rest her sweet soul, had given her when she’d first moved into the house five years ago.

Her fingers wrapped around the crystal. Tested its cold weight.

“I can have any woman,” Paul boasted. “They all beg for my bite.”

Now Miranda was the one choking back a growl. The bastard was almost in range. She lifted the vase, heaving it over her head.

He took another step forward.

Then he spun toward her with his face twisted in fury.

She didn’t hesitate. Miranda hurled the vase at Paul, slamming the crystal right at him.

The vase shattered with a crash. Shards of crystal littered the ground. Blood covered Paul’s face, trickling down his already-battered cheeks and his chin.

But the man didn’t fall. Didn’t so much as stumble.

He smiled at her. “I knew you’d be special.”

Special? She’d just tried to brain the guy!

His hands lifted toward her and her stomach tightened.

Then Cain was there, clenching his hands around Paul’s shoulders and throwing the bloody bastard against the wall. The impact seemed to shake her small house.

And Paul didn’t get up.

Cain stared at her. Those mysterious golden eyes of his gleamed with a feverish intensity. “You all right?”

Not really. She suspected she might be minutes away from a breakdown and—

“Why the hell are you dating a vampire?”

Uh, no, she wasn’t. Because vampires weren’t real and—

And her date had just tried to bite her and drain her blood. Like a vampire.

Vampire.

Her knees buckled. Miranda hit the floor, almost as hard as Paul had just hit the wall.

Cain leapt over the couch. “Miranda?” His gravelly voice was tinged with a faint drawl. One that had made her think of cowboys the first time she’d heard that deep rumble.

“I—I just need…a minute.” Or maybe an hour.

He reached for her, pulling her into his arms and pressing her against the soft front of his T-shirt and that rock-hard chest of his.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now—”

Yeah, well, she wasn’t exactly ready to believe that one yet.

“He didn’t drain you. And he didn’t give you an exchange, right?”

She blinked up at him. “An exchange of what?” She hadn’t even kissed the guy, so it sure as hell wasn’t like they’d exchanged anything—

“Shit.” Cain stiffened against her. “The cops are here.”

No, they weren’t, but the local deputies would probably be on their way soon, provided the dispatch caller had managed to get someone at the sheriff’s office and—

The shrill cry of a siren reached her ears.

“They aren’t equipped to handle him.”

She pushed away from Cain. Painful that, because the man sure felt good. Her gaze darted back to Paul. He was still unconscious. Should be easy enough for Sam Michaels and the other deputies to handle.

Paul’s eyes snapped open. Only they weren’t the light blue eyes he’d had before. They were pitch black. Blazing with fury.

The guy seemed to fly to his feet.

Cain shoved her back.

But Paul didn’t come for her. He ran for the broken door. Dripping blood. Swearing.

Cain followed right on his heels.

So did she.

Just as she reached the edge of her porch, two patrol cars roared up the gravel drive and braked in a cloud of dust and rocks. Paul ran straight toward them, then
over
them as he jumped onto the hood of one car and then appeared to soar over the other.

Cain rushed after him, only to be brought up short when Sam brandished his gun and yelled, “Freeze, asshole!” Then he turned to the group of deputies, muttering, “Dammit, where the hell did that other bastard go?”

But it was too late. Paul had run straight into the woods. His abandoned SUV waited near the side of her house.

“Go after him, now!”

Two men scrambled to obey.

Cain stood before her, hands up. “Uh, Miranda, tell him I’m not the bad guy here.”

For an instant, she remembered the brutal look on his face when he’d knocked in her door.

He’d sure looked pretty bad then. And he’d more than left his mark on Paul.

“Miranda…”

But he’d saved her ass. “Th—the other one, Sam. He’s the one who—who”—
bit
—“attacked me.”

Sam swore and lowered his gun.

“You’re not gonna catch him,” Cain muttered, dropping his hands. “The bastard will be long gone before your men can even catch his trail.”

Now Sam’s already tense face hardened even more. “Oh, yeah, and just how do you know that, buddy?”

“Because scum like that is used to running and hiding. You won’t find him.” He glared at the dark woods. “But I will, and that asshole can count on it.”

The pretty schoolteacher looked pale. Too pale.

Miranda Shaw sat huddled on her porch steps. Her small shoulders were slumped. Her dark hair was a tangle around her heart-shaped face. She kept glancing at him with those big, blue bedroom eyes of hers. She’d look at him, then when he caught her staring, that gaze would dart away.

The lady was afraid of him. Figured.

But
he
hadn’t been the man trying to kill her. Shit. He’d saved her life. Didn’t he at least merit some kind of hot-and-heavy thank-you kiss for that?

Ah,
Miranda Shaw.
The sexy lady next door who’d brought him a dozen cookies when he’d moved in beside her. The computer teacher at the local high school. The teacher with the long, slender legs. With the softly curving breasts and the mouth that he ached to taste.

He’d dreamed about the woman for the past four nights. Hot, wild dreams that left him aching and pissed when he awoke alone.

Cain had wanted Miranda from the first moment he’d seen her. Wanted her naked and moaning his name.

He’d thought he’d play the gentleman. Get her used to him. Then take her.

Idiot.
He’d wasted time playing the good guy when the woman was hanging out with the undead.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

If Miranda wanted to take a walk on the wild side, she could damn well walk with him.

It wasn’t like she could find a guy much wilder, anyway. He could get downright primal and knew that with her, he probably would.

“Uh, Miranda? You gonna be all right tonight?” The question came from the uniformed deputy with the buzz-cut red hair, a fellow who apparently thought he was in charge. Miranda had called him Sam. Cain had no idea what the guy’s last name was.