Patrico drummed his fingers on his lap and stared at the wood floor. Then he lifted his gaze, his eyes heated. “Though it is no concern of yours…” He turned his attention to Tezra. “I don’t want her to suffer for my lack of courage any longer.”
Daemon sifted his fingers through Tezra’s hair. He concentrated on her subtle peach scent, her unhurried breath, the twitching of her eyelids, making her long lashes flutter. “Continue.”
Patrico tried to stand, but Voltan laid a hand on his shoulder, and the hunter remained seated, though he scowled at his guard. “Ten years ago, my buddy, Fish, and I’d been drinking at a bar in the warehouse district. We came across a vampire in an alley. The vampire’s mouth was bloodied, and he was leaning over a woman lying dead on the asphalt. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Fish asked him. Fish pulled out his blade and stumbled toward him. The vampire bared his bloody teeth and disappeared. I thought that was it. One more woman dead. The sixth in a string of murders committed close to bars. The vampire had done the killing, but we were too late to do anything about it.
“But then another vampire appeared half hidden in shadows, his lips smeared with fresh blood. And I realized in my booze-soaked brain that there were two vampiric predators, not just the one as we all had assumed. Before I could react, he swooped down on Fish, broke his sword arm in two, then bit into his throat and tore out the jugular. Releasing my friend, who fell limp to the ground like a discarded rag doll, the fiend faced me. Immobilized, I was too drunk to wield a sword, even if I could have pulled the damned thing from its sheath.”
“Who was he?”
“Mustaphus. The vampire conveyed to me, ‘You live, hunter, because I, Mustaphus, choose to let you live.’ But he spoke silently, telepathically. He had no way of knowing I could ‘hear’ his words. Conceited bastard.”
An image of Lichorus at the restaurant, speaking about her lover, came to Daemon’s mind: Mustaphus knew where the next police officer would be murdered before it was announced on the news this morning.
“You never reported Mustaphus’s crime?”
“No. How could I? Fish and I shouldn’t have been drinking on duty when we were investigating the barfly murders. Instead, I let on that Fish had left me and I found him dead near the woman’s body, no vampires in sight. If I had told the SCU what I had seen with my own two eyes, I’d never have been appointed to the senior staff. And as Tezra well knows, I could never tell anyone of my telepathic abilities. Had I said I knew the man was Mustaphus, the SCU would have wondered how I had known and why the vampire let me live. I was in line for the only available seat on the High Council in two days’ time. So I fabricated my involvement.”
Patrico took a deep breath. “When Tezra came to me with her story, I had to vindicate myself and help her prove she spoke the truth. It didn’t matter that I was a member of the Council. She was too vulnerable, spunkier than hell, but investigating her parents’ murder could have easily gotten her into hot water, and I wanted to help her.”
“Why did you believe her when no one else did?”
Patrico looked past Daemon as if he were reliving it again. “After she told me what had happened, but before I met her in the warehouse district, I heard the vampire telepathically threatening her. I didn’t realize she had the ability. I thought he was making silent threats like Mustaphus had done when he had spoken to me. She didn’t respond, or if she did, she directed her message to him.”
Daemon blew out his breath. “You saw him?”
“No. I only heard his communication.”
“And you did nothing to protect her and faked your death?”
“The killer thought the drifter he’d murdered was me. The victim was the same build, a redhead, standing near where I was to meet Tezra. She hadn’t reached the location yet, but when she did, she found the man so mutilated no one could tell the difference. I persuaded my mother to agree the man was me, to ensure the vampire didn’t come after me again. I was certain the vampire wanted to convince Tezra that anyone who tried to help her would meet the same fate. I assumed she would give up her search. I should have known better.
“But, I…well, I was afraid. Anyone who shows fear in the face of danger is expelled from the elite organization. So you see, I was already dead.” Patrico shrugged. “The longer I lived the lie, the easier it was. I’ve made a nice life for myself as a psychic. Only my mother knew I was still alive, and she wanted to keep me that way.”
“You left Tezra to fend for herself, dammit. How could a hunter and senior staff member leave a teen who’d lost her parents to deal with an ancient vampire alone?”
Patrico avoided eye contact. “It’s something I’ve got to live with.”
As far as Daemon was concerned, it wasn’t enough.
Voltan shoved Patrico’s shoulder, his canines extended. “You don’t deserve to live.” Wearing leather “armor”, his angular jaw set and steely blue eyes hardened, Voltan looked like he belonged in the dungeon, torturing enemy prisoners.
“Why visit Katie?” Daemon asked.
“I wanted to help her and Tezra, but I didn’t know how. No one but Tezra came to see Katie so I visited her from time to time. I’d hoped…well, that maybe I could help her come out of her shell since I’d failed her sister.”
“Then why remove her from the hospital?”
Patrico fisted his hands and stared at the floor. “The word on the street was Tezra had joined a group of vampires and had been turned. I thought the vampire who’d murdered their parents had finally taken Tezra for his own. By removing Katie from the hospital, I thought I could finally do my part and at least save her where I had failed with Tezra.”
“Save Katie from the killer?”
Pinning Daemon with a glare, Patrico said, “Yes. I thought he was coming for her.”
Thankful the hunter wasn’t against them, Daemon rose from the couch. “Voltan, have Patrico retire to bed and watch him.”
“I’m on your side. Let me help you to take down Mustaphus and the other.”
Daemon studied him for a minute but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of his decision, then lifted Tezra off the sofa. “Atreides, call for backup to conduct perimeter watch.”
“What are you going to do with the hunter?” Atreides asked.
Daemon carried Tezra down the hall, the feel of her soft body, her light breath, stirring his need to protect and care for her. “Help him regain his courage.”
Chapter Eleven
When Daemon laid Tezra in the king-sized bed in Patrico’s master bedroom, her eyelids fluttered open, and he hated that he had awakened her.
“Katie’s all right?” she asked, her voice sultry and sexy.
He nodded and slid her boots off, depositing them on the floor with a clunk.
As if she were shocked awake, Tezra jumped off the bed and in a flash, headed for the door. “Is she asleep?”
“Yes. How are you feeling?”
“Wiped out. I guess I’d make a lousy vampiress after all.” She sounded annoyed with herself as she yanked the door open.
How could she always see herself in such a negative way? She’d make one hell of a vampiress if she didn’t turn rogue.
“As a vampire, you wouldn’t have any side effects.” He followed her down the hall to the first guest bedroom. “I shouldn’t have moved you so much without allowing you the time to adjust. It was entirely my fault.”
She didn’t say anything, but pointed to the correct room with a questioning glance.
“She’s in there, perfectly safe.”
Tezra’s concerned expression didn’t lighten. She twisted the doorknob with care, then opened the door slowly and peered in. Once she observed her sister sleeping in the queen-sized bed, her posture relaxed. She closed the door without making a sound.
“You need to rest after all the transporting you’ve been through. Not to mention it’s late.” He led Tezra back to the master bedroom, hoping she’d get some much-needed sleep.
>
When he closed the door, she headed for the bed and collapsed. She lifted the edge of her sweater. Intrigued, he focused on her garment, though he knew he should let her sleep while he served as her bodyguard.
“Do you need some help?”
She gave him a wicked smile.
Instantly wary, Daemon said, “I’m not turning you.”
Frowning at him, she shrugged. “Whatever.”
He slipped the sweater over her head and cast it on a chair. “Patrico said Mustaphus killed his hunter friend and committed the barfly murders ten years ago.”
She growled. “Then he lied back then. Said Fish had gotten away from him and later Patrico found him dead.”
“Yeah, he was afraid he’d lose his position on the Council because of his cowardly actions—not to mention he was drunk and couldn’t have fought the vampires if he’d wanted to. Though it’s no excuse—he left you alone to fend for yourself.”
She touched her belt buckle. “As much as I hate what he did, I imagine he hates himself even more.” She fingered her belt. “Wanna help?”
His gaze shifted to hers, her green eyes sparkling with impish delight.
She shrugged. “Or not.”
He unfastened her belt and pulled her pants past her hips.
She patted the bed. “Wanna join me?”
Join her? “What’s on your mind, Tezra?” He hoped she wanted the same thing he did, but where women were concerned, he could never be certain no matter how many centuries he lived.
Her lips curved up. “Come to bed, Daemon. There’s room for two.”
“To sleep,” he stated, though he waited for her to verify that’s what she had in mind.
“It’s late. Katie’s asleep. For the moment, everything’s quiet. So, yes, why not sleep?”
Disappointed she didn’t want anything more, Daemon removed his clothes, turned out the light and joined her in bed. One time, she’d said. Only one time for sex, though he knew she was right. The more he was with her, the more he wanted of her.
“Where are you?” she whispered.
He still didn’t entirely believe her motives, nor did he trust himself not to give in to the sexual cravings and bloodlust she stirred in him. When he didn’t move toward her, the mattress jostled. She laid her head against his chest, her fingertip tracing his abdomen, rousing him.
Only intending to hold her, he wrapped his arms around her. It would never be enough. Yet he wouldn’t succumb to the illicit reactions she prompted in him, and he closed his eyes, fully determined to sleep.
One time wasn’t enough, Tezra thought wryly. She shouldn’t have chased after the prince of the American clans, shouldn’t have solicited his touch, but she wanted him, just one more time. She was certain the sensations wouldn’t be as strong, nor the sex as good—just old hat, liking eating the second chocolate bonbon, more filling but not as tantalizing and satisfying as the first. But she wanted proof. And she still wanted to convince him to turn her.
At first Daemon barely responded to her touching him, until she licked his nipple. He sucked in his breath and his stomach tightened. He pressed heated kisses on her throat, her shoulders, her breasts, sent sparks of desire tingling through her veins. Even now with blissful expectation, the short curly hairs between her legs dampened. He kissed her cheeks, each kiss lingering and erotic as if his velvet touch memorized the impression of her skin against his, cherished it and wanted more.
His leg shifted and propped possessively over hers.
She ran her hand over his perfectly toned back and his erection prodded her waist. “Hmm, Daemon.” She’d never been with anyone who responded so quickly to her sexually, who wanted to please her as much as he seemed to enjoy being with her. She loved how that made her feel so wanted. But would he ever agree to change her?
He lifted strands of her hair and took a deep breath. “Sweet, silky delight.” He touched her breast and ran his finger over the extended nipple, sending a shiver of need through her.
She responded by caressing his thigh, so titillating pressed against hers.
He groaned and nudged his leg between hers. Trailing his fingers over her jaw, he kissed her mouth at one corner, then the other. Every touch was amative, sensual, calculated to make her feel sexy and desired. When she was with him like this, being his mate didn’t seem so bad even if he said he didn’t want her to be his. He licked her skin, feathering kisses down her neck to the breastbone, sending liquid heat spiraling through her.
He gently rubbed his thigh against her sensitive nub. Moaning, she leaned against him and encouraged his stimulating action. She barely breathed when he slid his fingers down her stomach, lower, until he ran them through her short curly hairs.
“Tezra.”
He licked her nipple. Closing her eyes, she savored his mouth scandously clamping down on the tip. She reached lower and stroked his stone-hard arousal, forcing him to groan. He thought his rule was absolute, but her simple touch unraveled him. She smiled at the contradiction.
He removed her hand from his erection, and he tugged tenderly at her nipple with his teeth.
Both nipples instantly firmed and begged for more of his touch. With a deep breath, she pulled at his leg, encouraging him to join with her.
His hand moved to her waist, but he didn’t take her despite her encouragement. Leaning forward, he touched his forehead to hers. “You said only once.”
“A woman can change her mind.” And if he didn’t go through with it after already getting her this worked up, she wouldn’t be responsible for her actions!
His deep chuckle tickled her. He pressed her legs apart and settled in between, his movements rushed as if he feared she’d change her mind.
He slid his erection inside her. Driving her hips for maximum penetration, she savored his thickened shaft reaching deep.
Meeting her impetus with faster thrusts, he matched her drive and willingness with his own, rubbing his pelvis against her mound. Then he slowed. Her heart sank when she thought she was losing him.
She held onto his back, digging her fingernails in to force him to continue, but he pulled out despite her efforts. Confusion and upset reigned.
Before she could ask what was wrong, his mouth tackled hers with fervor. His fingers caressed her most sensitive spot, wringing her body until she clambered for the peak. Only a little higher. She moaned his name, her body hotter than a fire’s white flames, their hair and skin damp with perspiration, the sun nearly within reach. The jolt of inspiration, of exhilaration and of being loved while he put her needs before his, washed over her with a mixture of euphoria and complete satisfaction. “Bite me.”
“You wish to offer your blood?”
And more, if she could convince him. She nodded, certain he wasn’t ready to turn her yet, but the ache to feel the sensation intensified, triggering a surge of new need. She understood now why blood bonds offered themselves to the vampires—for the sexual pleasure they received.
Entering her again, Daemon resumed his thrusts, deep, penetrating, almost desperate.
His hands stroked her hair, then pushed it aside, and he licked her neck. Trying not to think about his feeding off her, she ran her hands over the muscles of his butt, concentrating on the way he moved, hard and determined. A prick on her neck was all it amounted to, like the infinitesimal sting of two mosquitoes situated slightly apart. Then warmth spread through her body, and a calm like she’d never experienced before flooded every cell.
She tightened her legs around him, pressuring him to find release in her.
Peacefulness and serenity filled her while he sucked from her throat, drawing her blood, his thickened erection still thrusting deep inside her. When he pumped his seed into her, her heated body reached heavenward again. She moaned, satiated with pleasure.
His mouth still claimed her throat, his touch as sensuous as when he sucked on her breast, tingling and titillating. Her mind drifted, circling the stars and the moon, floating past the constellations, sp
arks of light falling to the earth, and nothing but joy could touch her.
With a sigh, Daemon licked her wounds, sealing them. Pulling her against his body, he vowed never to take her again. Being with her was too tempting. He couldn’t risk it, and he worried she was trying to use her sexual wiles to ensnare him to turn her.
She nestled against him, her breathing growing softer, her heart rate slowing.
Never again, he vowed. Never again, and he tightened his hold on her.
***
Gale-force winds pummeled the beach home, rattling the overhang over the back porch. A couple of hours later, Daemon sensed Maison speaking with Atreides in Patrico’s living room. Daemon kissed Tezra’s cheek, unwrapped his body from hers, then dressed and joined Maison and his brother.
Maison’s hair dripped water and the bottoms of his jeans were wet. Raindrops puddled up on his black trench coat hanging on the arm of the sofa.
“What have you learned in your investigation concerning Uncle Solomon, Maison?”
“Tezra’s hunch was right.” Sitting on a sofa opposite him, Maison took a sip of wine, leaned back and stretched his long legs. “The murdered police officers killed Solomon.”
The wind howled through a crack in the front door, making it sound as though angry spirits were warning them to get out. Rain driven at a slant pounded the picture windows, and Daemon left the sofa and took a look out one of them. The waves billowed into white frothing mountains in the blackness, but they were safe enough here for the moment.
Returning to the sofa, he considered Maison’s words. Even though Daemon condemned the murdering vampire, the darkest part of him felt the officers deserved their just rewards for killing an innocent. Their uncle, for centuries their surrogate father, harsh at times, loving when they needed it, was the last of their natural-born kin. Life without his wry sense of humor or many words of wisdom would never be the same.