Whiteout (Aurora Sky (34 page)

Fane glanced over. The volume and speed of his wo
rds seemed to pick up before he said a quick “
Ciao
!
” and pocketed his phone.

He started the SUV and backed up
a little
before making a
U
-turn, heading back to the highway.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Back to town.”

“Why?”

Fane left my question hanging
in the air. A couple miles up, he pulled off into the same deserted gas station and put the car in park.

“Okayyy,” I said, dragging the word out—Fane's cue to fill me in. “What's going on?” His phone rang and made me give a little jump.

Fane answered, list
ening before responding in rapid
-
fire Italian. “
Grazie. Ciao
,” he said before lowering the phone. He put the Rover in drive and headed back to the highway. Déjà vu on repeat.

This time Fane took a right, northbound. He drove slowly, looking across me out t
he passenger's window. “Tell me if you see North Star Street,” Fane said.

I followed the direction of his eyes and watched for street signs. It was difficult in the dark and not even a single city light in such a small town. The place was more like a pit s
top than a town.

“It has to be the one up here,” Fane said, slowing the SUV to a crawl. The headlights reflected off a sign, making me squint to block out the glare, but not before reading “North Star.”

“Here it is,” I said, which wasn't really necessary a
s Fane had already put on his blinker and started turning the wheel.

The road was not only plowed, but—wonder of all wonders—paved. Other than that, it was like any other dark wooded road I'd been down more times than I could count
during
the past three we
eks.

“Where are we going?” I asked with more insistence.

This time Fane answered. “My cousin's assistant secured us lodging for the night.”

“Just like that?” I said, snapping my fingers.

Fane smirked. “It's a little late for check-ins, but she made it wort
h their while.”

Why didn't that comfort me? For some stupid reason, I felt annoyed. Maybe it was because Dante and I had spent the last month breaking in and fighting our way in to secure shelter. Unlike Giselle and Fane, we didn't have mountains of money
at our fingertips or, excuse me, a personal assistant to order up a room just like that.

Maybe I really had spent too much time in the bush. Living as we had made that kind of money seem obnoxious. Maybe I was more like Dante than I cared to admit. Calling
him bullheaded was a bit like calling the kettle black.
What if after all the excitement died down it turned out Fane and
I weren't meant to be?

My gut clenched at the thought. The anguish it caused made me want to double over in my seat. Loving Fane made me euphoric. There were
also
times it made me miserable.

I'd been the one to kiss him the first time. I'd been the one to kiss him earlier in the
snow after a harrowing month separation. It seemed like I was always the one initiating contact. The one who called him. It was me who always asked him to pick me up, come over, or meet me someplace.

Now was not the time to get emotional, but my brain had
a funny way of disregarding external matters.

Spotting the lodge ahead didn't help settle my stomach. If anything, my heart
backflipped
and entered a cycle of ongoing spins that made it hard to sit still.

How many times had I wished to reunite with Fane?
For a night such as this, alone together?

I
knew
it was sappy to fantasize about Fane declaring his undying love and devotion the moment we met up, but I had imagined something more romantic than a quick kiss
and
let's-be-on-our-way kind of greeting follow
ed by criticism of the plans I'd carried out. This wasn't the first time Fane had judged my actions.

I'd done pretty good for an eighteen-year-old newbie vampire being hunted by every vampire, hunter, and informant in the state.

I was getting worked up, re
ady to share this bit of badassery with Fane when he pulled into a spot in front of a small one-story timber lodge.

Ignition off, Fane got out of the SUV. I did the same in time to see a portly man with five inches of beard bristling down his chin heading
toward us.

“Antonio D'Amico?” he called out.

“That's me,” Fane replied, making me do a double-take.

I guess Dante, Ashley, and I weren't the only ones with aliases. Was Antonio some kind of fabled character in Italy? I didn't have a chance to ask with the
man headed for us.

He held up a key attached to a large oval lacquered wood chip.

“You're in cabin five
,” the man said, handing the hunk of wood to Fane. It was the biggest keychain I'd ever seen. “You'll need to keep your vehicle parked here and take the
shoveled path to the right that leads along the north end of the lodge and continues another sixty feet or so to the first cabin. Once you pass the lodge, you'll see it on the left. It's nestled in the woods a fair distance from the lodge, nice and seclud
ed.”

S
ecluded. That might have sounded romantic under other circumstances. As it was, I'd had enough seclusion to last me the next two decades and “Antonio” here wasn't exactly sweeping me off my feet. Quite the opposite. I'd swept him off his feet… litera
lly
knocked him over and onto his ass.

I didn't mean to snort. It was loud enough for the proprietor to stop speaking and
for
Fane to flash an amused smile in my direction before turning his attention back to the man.

“Marie got the fire going for you. Giv
e it another half hour to an hour and the place will be nice and toasty.”

“We are most grateful,” Fane said.

“All right then,” the man said. “Let me know if you need anything else. Otherwise, enjoy your stay.”

“We have everything we need. Thank you,” Fane
answered. Once the proprietor retreated inside the lodge, Fane turned to me and smiled. “Ready to get out of the cold?”

I placed a finger on my chin. “I don't know. I'm not accustomed to sharing rooms with complete strangers,
Antonio
.”

Fane twirled the key
around by the hunk of wood. “Alfonso and I thought it best to reserve the room under an assumed name… just in case.”

“And who is Antonio D'Amico?” I asked.

“An Italian fashion designer,” Fane said with an eye roll. “Alias courtesy of my cousin, Alfonso. O
nce you meet him you'll understand. Come on.” Fane started in the direction our midnight host had pointed out.

“What about your luggage? Should I ring the valet to bring it to the room?” I teased.

Fane pivoted and faced me, his grin
brightening
the space i
n front of his face as though lit up by a black light. “Didn't have time to pack,” he replied, matching my taunting tone. “All I've got are the clothes on my back, but now that you ask
,
I may need help removing them.”

My cheeks flushed red. I
was
sure they
stood out as much as Fane's teeth—even in the dark. That
wa
s what I got for poking the bear.

I swallowed wrong and began to cough. Damn it. Nice timing. I beat a fist against my chest and cleared my throat.

Fane rose one eyebrow. “Was there something else
you wished to say?”

“I'm good,” I answered.

“You sure?”

“
Sure,” I
insisted
.

Fane was the master of the Cheshire grin. It formed over his lips now, all the more pronounced in the dark until disappearing as he spun around and led the way down the shoveled p
ath skirting the lodge.

Once we passed the main building, he called out every ten paces
.
“Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. Fifty. Sixty…”

The countdown inside my head went in the opposite direction. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One…

What next?

 

 

 19

Time Bomb

 

I followed Fane up the shoveled path leading to our secluded cabin. A bristly tan welcome mat touched the edge of the door. An overhead light illuminated the front entrance. Electricity. That was a good sign. Upon unlocking it, Fane pushed the door open and ushered me inside first, following me and securing the bolt once we were inside.

The cabin had a cozy open interior with wood furnishings. True to the proprietor's words, a fire danced behind the glass door of a small stove.
Near the fire, the
re was a
queen-sized bed with a handmade quilt beneath a curtained window
. It
looked altogether too wholesome to handle the storm brewing between Fane and me.

He lifted first one foot then the other and removed his combat boots, setting them beside the doo
r. There was no sense tracking snow in. I bent forward and unlaced my boots before tugging them off. As I did, Fane took off his winter jacket and draped it over
a
wood chair.

The cabin felt way too hot all of a sudden—my jacket stifling. I wrenched my arm
s out of the coat and hung it from a hook by the door.
Next I removed my belt, holster, and gun.

In addition to the fire, a tall lamp had been turned on in anticipation of our arrival.

Fane moved across the small room and took a seat on the edge of the bed
. He stared at me with
lips parted into
a half
smirk. I folded my arms and stared back. What did he expect? For me to join him on the bed? Straddle him? Throw myself at him as usual?

A memory of him beating on the door of the music room to get to Joss appe
ared in my head.
N
ow that his friend was safe
,
it was okay to be cooped up inside a room with me.

My toes curled over the hardwood floor.

Fane's eyebrows pinched together. “What's wrong?”

I rubbed my fingers against the hem of my tank top. My throat went
dry,
suddenly having trouble finding the right words or meeting his eye.

I drew in a breath and released it. “I'm glad you got Joss back,” I said.

Fane began tapping a finger over his thigh. “And?” he prodded.

I forced my own fingers to stop fiddling aroun
d and cleared my throat. “I mean, it's not like you'd be here
with me
now if you hadn't found him.”

Believe me, I had no patience for the
crybaby
act, but it had hurt to feel invisible the moment Fane realized Joss' life might
have been
in danger. I felt t
he crushing weight of responsibility, but I hadn't been the one to take him to the party or the one to date Valerie Ward, vixen from hell.

Tears glossed over my eyes. I blinked them back.

“I'm sorry he got caught up in things that night,” I said in a rush
of words. “I just wish you cared half as much for me as you do for him.”

Fane shot up, his feet landing roughly on the floor. The muscles in his arms flexed. I tensed and leaned back.

“You think I don't care enough?” he bellowed. “I moved heaven and earth
to find you. I called every contact I have in this state to keep their eyes and ears open. I searched any potential lead personally
,
no matter how unlikely the chances. From the moment you took off, I turned the town upside down looking for you. I brought
in my family, bribed a US senator
.
I never thought I'd say this, but I'm starting to feel sorry for Dante. I know what it's like to get left behind.”

And there it was. Of course he was mad.

Fane's jaw tightened and veins bulged from his neck. His eyes had
flared open and he stood with his legs wide apart, sucking air in and out of his nose like an angry bull.

“I'm sorry about that,” I said, my voice rising to match his. “But I did it for your own safety.”

“My safety? I'm not the ticking time bomb.”

My pul
se quickened. Red
-
hot anger rushed through me. He'd called me a danger to myself and the people around me. It prickled and stung and hurt like nothing I'd ever felt before. The worst part was the ring of truth to what he'd said. I had left him behind witho
ut an explanation, and I'd done practically the same thing to Dante. Yet every action I'd ever taken had been with the intention of protecting the people I loved. For that I got compared to an explosive device.

“If I'm such a menace
,
then maybe you should
stay away from me… permanently!” I yelled, unable to think or see clearly any longer.

I spun on my heel and headed toward the door. I had to get out of there before I started crying. A pair of slip
-
on shoes would have really helped. I'd just have to stuff
my feet inside my boots as fast as I could and worry about lacing them up later, say sixty paces from the cabin.
It was a long walk back to the lodge, but at least I knew the way.

Fane shot past me, blocking the door with his towering mass. I was startled
to see his face had turned red, his breathing heavy in my ears.

“Oh no you don't,” Fane said. “I'm done letting you walk away.”

Our eyes locked, bodies temporarily suspended, watching each other to see who would make the first move.

The truth was I didn't
want to walk away. I didn't want to leave. B
ut I was too stubborn to say so.

Something in Fane's expression changed. His lips softened and shoulders relaxed. He leaned forward, bending at the knees, and wrapped his arms around my waist. In the next instan
t, I was airborne, being lifted over his shoulder.

I gave a startled squeak.

As he carried me across the room, my hands groped for something to grasp, sliding over smooth cotton and hard muscle beneath. It felt as though I could slip from his arms at any m
oment
,
even knowing that Fane would never let me fall. Well, not until he dumped me on top of the bed.

The springboards squealed when I landed.

Before I had a chance to sit up, Fane was
on top of me kissin
g his way up my neck, taking his time. Each kiss se
nt a shiver over my skin. I'd always found his lips seductive, but never more
so
than now as they brushed across my body toward my mouth. My toes curled. The covers bunched beneath my nails as
I squeezed
the quilt.

Once Fane's lips reached mine a maelstrom
built between our two mouths until we were breathless. I pulled back, gasping in
a
lungful of air before leaning in for more. My body screamed for more. More lips. More tongue. More everything Fane.

His
long, slender
fingers stroked the top of my hand gen
tly, tracing invisible lines to my wrist.

I released my hold on the quilt to run my hands down Fane's back, feel
ing the ridge of his spine beneath my fingertips
. Afte
r repeating the motion several
times I allowed my hands to slide lower, following the curv
e of his ass.
Mine
, I thought as I gave him a firm squeeze.

 Fane was
on his knees
in a flash
, working the fastening of my jeans. He unbutton
ed and unzipped them with
nimble fingers, then began pulling the denim down my legs. His hands froze when he reache
d my knees.

Fane released a shuddering breath.

I lifted my head, suddenly remembering the lace stockings I'd put on earlier. Heat flooded my cheeks.

I opened my mouth to explain or make a joke, but my mouth went dry when I saw Fane's lips part and his eyes
brighten, practically dancing with delight. He resumed undressing me, pulling my jeans to my ankles and freeing them over my feet.

I leaned my head back on the mattress and swallowed, savoring the feel of
Fane's hands as he
drag
ged
the
lace
stockings down
my legs.

I thought I might catch a chill. Instead, my skin blazed under the warmth of the fire and Fane's touch.
Everything from the pressure of his fingers to the leisurely stroke of his hand felt exquisitely deliberate. A shudder ran through my body whe
n Fane broke contact.

I propped myself on my elbow to see what was going on.

Fane stood, poised like a Roman warrior looking over his conquest.

Veni, vidi, vici
, I thought with a wry smile. But I was getting ahead of myself. Fane had yet to see everything,
yet to conquer, and,
ahem
, that whole part of the Latin phrase beginning with “I came.” My cheeks flushed. So I had a bit of a dirty mind. Men didn't have an exclusive on perverse thoughts.

Fane flashed one of his disturbingly shrewd smiles, like he was r
eading my mind. He walked over to the lamp in the corner of the cabin and turned it off. The room dimmed. The blaze behind the glass door of the hearth illum
inated the cabin
—like flames from a dozen candles.

I watched as Fane pulled his
T
-shirt over his he
ad and tossed it aside.

Firelight danced all around us. It flickered over Fane's
smooth and
tightly toned abs.
He was slender but built.
His dark jeans rode low over his hips, dragging my attention downward to his
belly button
and the suggestive V dipping below his belt. His body was
mesmerizing
against the fire's glow.