If Gram had bothered to ask, Jez would have told her she’d gone to her friend Harry’s apartment. Harry was nineteen years old—way too old for her, and not that into girls, though she’d had a hint of a childish crush on him—and had HIV just like her. They’d met at the doctor’s office, but of course Gram would never be caught dead acknowledging anyone who might share Jez’s affliction, because as far as she was concerned, AIDS was God’s punishment to the sinners of this world. And following that logic, Jez must be a sinner herself, or she wouldn’t have HIV.
It had been Harry who’d pierced her nose, and he’d only done it because she said she’d do it herself if he didn’t help her. Having worked at a tattoo parlor before he’d become infected, he’d been the perfect one to ask. He’d even been sensitive enough to warn her how Gram would react, but at the time, she’d said she didn’t care.
Jez blinked away tears, leaning on the dresser in her bedroom, hating how memories could hurt so much even when she reminded herself that she’d never have to face Gram again. She dragged in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, trying to let the tension flow out of her. If she were like Gabriel, she’d head on back to Baltimore and pay her Gram a visit. She tried to imagine sinking her fangs into that self-righteous old biddy’s throat, but the idea held no appeal. Vengeance just wasn’t her thing.
Brooding and self-pity made her late to Eli’s meeting, but she could always count on Jules and Hannah being later, so she wasn’t the last to arrive. Eli gave her a funny look, like he could tell in an instant something was wrong, but thankfully he didn’t press her.
There followed one of the most torturous hours Jez had spent since she’d been transformed, as Hannah recounted her meeting with Gabriel, and the Guardians planned their “trap.” Jez hoped like hell her face wasn’t giving away too much of her inner turmoil. Luckily, as one of the youngest Guardians, and having—as far as anyone knew—nothing to do with the case, she felt shrouded in a cloak of invisibility.
Carolyn had spent the day refreshing her rifle skills. She was confident that at close range, she’d have an excellent chance to get off a head shot. Everyone was in agreement she’d only get one shot. If she missed, Gabriel’s glamour would make a second shot impossible.
For once, Gray and Jules were in agreement, begging Eli not to let Hannah and Carolyn put themselves in so much danger. But only an idiot would bet against those two women in a battle of wills!
Hannah would stay home the next couple of nights, while Jules left on “errands.” They were gambling that Gabriel would make contact before the scheduled rendezvous. Which, of course, he would.
Carolyn would arrange to be camped out on the roof of the house across the street from Hannah’s apartment. Hannah would leave her living room windows and drapes open, and when Gabriel paid her a visit, Carolyn should have a clear shot from less than thirty yards away. She didn’t need to be an expert marksman to make that shot. And Gabriel would have no reason to be suspicious if he sensed a mortal presence when surrounded by mortal residences.
If it weren’t for Jez, the plan might actually have had a chance of working. The guilt squatted heavily on her shoulders, and she must have looked really miserable.
“Are you all right, Jezebel?” Eli asked, startling her out of her funk.
For half a second, she feared he saw right through her, knew she was a spy and a filthy liar. But then logic returned and she tried to answer calmly.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” Hannah said, with her usual tact. She regarded Jez with unfriendly eyes. “What’s wrong with you?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to deny anything was wrong, but who did she think she’d fool? So reluctantly, she told a bit of the truth. “I had nightmares,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know it was possible for a vampire to have nightmares.”
“Oh yeah?” Hannah asked, and she still sounded suspicious. “What about?”
“I don’t think this is a subject for a public forum,” Eli chided gently. “This is a business meeting, if you’ll recall.”
Hannah shrugged. “Whatever.”
The meeting resumed, but Jez could feel the occasional touch of Hannah’s glance, full of curiosity and suspicion. Afterward, Eli made her stay behind and asked her if there was anything she wanted to talk about with him. Wishing desperately that she could, she smiled and shook her head, then got out of there as fast as she could manage.
HER NERVES WERE SHOT by the time she got home, so once again Jez rooted through her purse for her cigarettes. She grimaced when she took her first drag. She could swear they smelled and tasted worse each time. And she’d never liked them all that much in the first place. She’d started smoking because it pissed Gram off, and because she thought she’d be dead long before lung cancer became a concern.
She made it halfway through the cig before she discarded it in disgust, tossing the rest of the pack at the same time. Her body burned with excess energy, and she almost called Hannah to ask for a sparring session tonight. It would feel good to fight, even though she’d probably get her ass kicked again. But Hannah would start asking questions about what was wrong, and Jez didn’t feel up to answering.
Searching for something that might soothe her, she settled for drawing a hot bath. She tossed in a handful of aromatherapy bath salts that were supposed to be peace-inducing, turned off the bathroom lights, and lit a single candle, making the bathroom as restful as she could. If only she could sip from a glass of wine as she soaked, it would be perfect.
For the first ten minutes or so, she felt like she might jump out of the water any moment. Then, the heat started to get to her, and finally, her muscles relaxed one by one. She let her eyes drift closed and leaned back into the water on a soft sigh.
She didn’t know how long she’d been lying there, soaking in the warmth, breathing in the pleasant, though slightly medicinal, scent of the bath salts, before some sixth sense told her she wasn’t alone.
She’d been expecting Gabriel to show up, of course. And she’d expected him not to bother knocking. She hadn’t expected him to barge in on her in the bathroom. And yet, she knew he was here.
She kept her eyes closed, reaching out with her senses, but they as usual insisted there was no one here.
Wishing she could believe her vamp-dar, knowing her intuition was more reliable, she reluctantly lifted her eyelids just enough to let her peek out from beneath her lashes.
He stood in the bathroom doorway, staring at her with absolute attention. She’d turned the lights off in the hall, so the only illumination came from that one dim candle, which turned his handsome face into a collage of shadows and sharp angles. He’d dumped his leather jacket, instead wearing a plain black T-shirt and ratty, faded jeans, but he still looked dangerous. His eyes were night-dark, no hint of their usual gray-green color.
At first, she assumed his eyes looked so dark because it was dark in the room. Then, through her closed lashes, she watched his eyes travel up and down her body, a slow, luxurious tour that she felt like a physical caress. And she knew it wasn’t darkness that caused his eyes to dilate.
Her nipples hardened, and a pulse of desire tugged at her center. Never before had a man looked at her like that. But then, ever since she’d come down with full-blown AIDS, she’d been perpetually skinny and sickly, not a curve on her.
She opened her eyes fully, but Gabriel was too intent on his inspection to notice. One corner of her mouth tipped upward. She supposed she should be annoyed at the invasion of her privacy, or at least embarrassed to be seen in the nude. Instead, she felt something almost like awe at the idea of being looked at like a desirable woman. What a novelty!
“Like what you see?” she asked, and he jumped.
She wasn’t positive, but she thought his cheeks flushed just a tad pink at being caught staring. She expected him to cover for it with one of his nasty sneers or snide comments, but he didn’t. Instead, he just smiled, though the desire in his eyes made
the smile into something just short of a leer.
“I like very much,” he said, and this time it was her own cheeks that went pink. Then, he had to ruin it. “The last time I saw you naked, you were bruised from head to toe and hadn’t enough fat on you to keep a mouse alive.”
“Gee, thanks,” she said, sitting up and turning slightly away to hide her breasts. She still bore faint scars on both her breasts, on her throat, and on the insides of her thighs from the feeding frenzy that had almost killed her. That would have killed her, if Gabriel hadn’t transformed her.
Gabriel didn’t take the hint, coming instead to sit on the edge of the tub. “Get out,” she snapped. “Let me put some clothes on.”
He arched one eyebrow. “Now why would I want you to do that when I’ve just pointed out how lovely you look without them.”
She crossed her arms over her breasts and glared at him, but he reached out and brushed her arms away, using his glamour when she tried to resist. Her heart fluttered strangely in her throat. Moments before, she’d enjoyed seeing the desire on his face when he looked at her. But that had been when he was clear across the room.
He reached out a finger and brushed lightly against one of the scars on the top of her breast. The touch made her shiver, and it had nothing to do with cold.
“Don’t!” she gasped, and to her surprise he let his hand fall away. She risked a peek upward, and saw a look on his face she couldn’t interpret. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
He blinked, and the strange look faded. He smiled, and it was almost charming. “I’m in a candlelit bathroom with a beautiful naked woman in the tub. How could anything be wrong?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “My, aren’t we mellow this evening.” She’d never seen him even remotely like this before. What had gotten into him?
“I don’t think mellow is the word you’re looking for, my dear,” he said, and his smile broadened until she saw that his fangs had descended. “Horny might be more like it.”
That made her gulp, and, unfortunately, glance down at his crotch. One glance was all it took to confirm that “horny” was a good choice of words.
The water felt suddenly cold around her, and her shiver made her teeth chatter. She drew her knees upward and wrapped her arms around them, hiding as much of herself from him as possible, even while some small corner of her mind reminded her that if he’d walked in and not been turned on by seeing her naked, it would probably have hurt her feelings.
He stood up and grabbed the towel she’d left neatly folded on the back of the toilet. She thought he’d just hand it to her and go, but he unfurled it and held it by opposite corners, and she realized he meant for her to stand up and let him wrap it around her. The thought made fear and lust battle within her belly. But if he wanted to, he could just use his glamour to drag her to her feet, so she gathered her courage and stood.
He wrapped the towel around her, but made no move to grab her as she’d half-expected. She stepped out of the tub, and he moved back to give her room. His eyes were still almost black, and out of the corner of her eye she saw that his erection still strained against his zipper. She shook her head in confusion.
“Are you coming on to me, or aren’t you?” she asked. “I always imagined it would be easy to tell, but I guess I was wrong.” Most of the men she’d hung out with had been fellow HIV or AIDS victims, and most of them were gay. The few who were bi didn’t seem to find her very tempting, so her experience with sexual overtures was disgustingly scant.
Gabriel met her eyes, his tongue playing with one of his fangs. “I’m trying to resist the temptation to pick you up and fuck you against the wall.”
The growling ferocity of his voice made her take a step backward. But the bathtub was behind her, and she kind of forgot about that. With a surprised cry, she lost her balance. The towel fell away, and she would no doubt have smashed her head against the tile wall behind the tub if Gabriel hadn’t closed the distance between them, grabbed her by the shoulders, and stood her upright. She clutched his forearms, her legs unsteady, her heart pounding.
Fire coursed through her veins, and something throbbed between her legs. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Was this Gabriel’s lust she was feeling? Or her own? She honestly couldn’t tell, and that was scary as hell.
Gabriel’s body pressed against hers, the torn denim of his jeans rough against her naked legs, the soft cotton of his T-shirt a sensuous caress against her hardened nipples. His mouth brushed against the side of her head, and she heard him breathe deep the scent of her. She couldn’t help reciprocating, inhaling the scent of leather that clung to him even without the jacket.
If this was his lust she was feeling, she was damn lucky he hadn’t already pinned her to the wall. And she couldn’t help wondering what sex would be like if she could feel her lover’s desire as strongly as her own.
Hell, she wondered what sex felt like, period! Having been gang-raped, she hardly qualified as a virgin, but whatever Gabriel had done to her memory made it all seem so distant she might as well have been. Common sense told her Gabriel wasn’t the right man to satisfy her curiosity. Yeah, he was good-looking, and she found him sexy as hell, but he was also a basket case, so full of anger he wouldn’t know a good thing if it bit him in the ass.
“Gabriel?” she whispered, not at all sure what she wanted to say.
His sigh was a breath of warmth along her cheek. Then, he let go of her and stepped back, his eyes averted.
“Come meet me in the living room when you’re dressed,” he said, and his voice sounded almost angry. He strode away before she had a chance to ask him what was wrong.
GABRIEL SAT ON JEZEBEL’S living room couch and willed his throbbing erection to go down.
He’d been entirely unprepared for his reaction to seeing her in that bathtub. When he’d transformed her, when he’d treated her wounds, he’d come to know every inch of her body, and had never once had a sexual thought about her. She’d been nothing but a tool to him then, a weapon to use to hurt Eli. He had to admit to himself that he’d barely even thought of her as a person, much less a woman.
Was it sharing her dreams that made him look at her so differently? Or was she blossoming now that she was out from under the influence of her poisonous family life? Or had he just gone too long without a good fuck?
If he hadn’t feared she’d pick up on the strange vibes of it, he’d have ducked into the powder room and jerked off just to ease the strain. As it was, he merely gritted his teeth and tried not to imagine sliding his cock deep into her hot, tight sheath.
He rolled his eyes at himself. Jez was hardly an appropriate outlet for his ferocity in bed. She was practically a virgin. And even now that she was a vampire, there wasn’t the faintest taint of corruption in her scent. She was a good person, and if he bedded her, he would cause her nothing but pain. Even if she genuinely thought she wanted him in her bed. Even if her apparent desire had nothing to do with his own lust bleeding over into her. No one in their right mind wanted him in their bed, not unless they were being well paid.
When he’d served as his mother’s right-hand man, he could order any of her fledglings he wanted to his bed. None dared refuse him, no matter how much they might dread what he would do to them. Submitting to him—and to Camille—had been part of the price they’d paid in letting her bite and transform them. A price, he reminded himself, they’d paid willingly. Camille made them serve her as mortals for at least two years before she transformed them. They saw what would be expected of them as fledglings, and they hadn’t flinched. If the reality turned out to be a little harder on them than they’d expected, that was their problem. Besides, he’d never done anything to them that they hadn’t done to someone else.
Now, he had no outlet. All Camille’s fledglings were dead, and Eli’s Guardians were too decent for his special brand of torment. At least, the ones he’d met so far were. Even Drake, the Killer, had no stink of corruption to him.
He supposed
he could slake his lust on mortal prostitutes, but though he’d availed himself of such services many times in the past, he rarely found the experience worth the time or money. Mortal women were so fragile, he had to be careful not to break them, and where was the fun in that?
He was lost enough in the turmoil of his thoughts that he didn’t hear Jezebel come in. He felt the couch dip with her weight, and his eyes popped open. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed them. He was in a bad way!
She looked … vulnerable. She’d put on a pair of loose-fitting knit pants and a pretty, ice-blue camisole top that revealed plenty of peaches-and-cream skin. But the bruised expression in her eyes helped him shove thoughts of sex aside. He realized his abrupt retreat from the bathroom must have hurt her feelings, and though he was hardly in the habit of giving comfort, he found he couldn’t resist.
“You’re very beautiful, and very desirable, Jezebel,” he said. “But as you’ve no doubt noticed, I am not a nice man.” He allowed himself a small, bitter smile. “I have just enough decency to try to protect you from myself. Which means in the future, you should keep your clothes on in my presence.”
The hurt in her eyes disappeared instantly. “Asshole!” she said, apparently not afraid of him anymore. Or maybe just too angry to care. “You walked into the bathroom while I was in the tub. It’s not like I ripped off my clothing and begged you to fuck me!”
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the fierceness of her response. Of course, she was dead right. “Forgive me. I’m trying to apologize. I’m not very good at it. I’ve had very little practice, you see.”
Her anger faded as quickly as it had come, and she laughed softly. “Your technique could definitely use some work.”
He shrugged. “I don’t expect to make a habit of it. I’m an old dog, and this is one new trick I don’t feel inclined to learn. Now, enough nonsense. Tell me what happened at Eli’s meeting tonight.”