Black Desire (7 page)

Chapter Five

It was almost
midnight when Tristan pulled into his driveway. He had lost a chunk of time,
maybe twenty minutes or more by his reckoning. The Rapture could do that,
putting a Vampire in a sphere where no one could reach. How many times did he
make Katrina come? He had no idea, had to be more than once. No wonder they
were both drenched in sweat, or were they wet from the rain, or both? Another
reason he made his quick escape. How to explain what happened? If she tried to
speak to him during the height of The Rapture, he wouldn't have heard. Yes, he
had a lot to explain tomorrow night. No use beating around the bush. Tristan would
tell her all about himself, consequences be damned. He knew,
knew
, this woman was for him.

He turned off the
motor, climbed out and glanced at the sky. The rain had stopped. Wasn't enough
to cool the air or cool his lust. Slamming the car door, he headed down the
slate stone walkway to his sprawling waterfront home. A man stepped out from
behind the shrubs.
Jesus, didn't even
hear him
. Tristan's nostrils flared instinctively. Not human, what was this
guy? The man was a few inches shorter than him, probably six feet in height and
too perfect in shape and countenance.

He held out a long
slender hand. "My name is Devlin Steele. I believe I have the honor of
meeting Tristan Black, do I not?"

Tristan looked down
at the well manicured hand. He didn't take it. Steele pulled it back and
snorted.

"Get off my
property. You have any business to discuss, call my office. Black
Transports," Tristan snapped.

He moved to walk
around the man. Steele stepped in front of him and blocked his way.

"I think not.
This concerns a certain associate of mine. Nigel Greene."

Tristan narrowed his
eyes. Fucking hell. Nigel was the damned mobster he called to clean up the
Raynor mess. Collecting his debt already? Christ, barely forty-eight hours had
passed.

"Tell Nigel to
call me then. I do not conduct business on my front walk in the wee small hours
of the morning."

Tristan went to move
around the man again. Devlin stopped him with his hand. His grip was
surprisingly strong and firm. Tristan snarled.

"Easy. You
misunderstand. Nigel works for me. I am here to discuss terms. I suggest you
invite me in as this will not take long." Steele smiled.
 
It was a wide, insincere, predatory smile
that stoked Tristan's anger even more. He pulled his arm out of Steele’s iron
grip.

"Fine. I'll give
you ten minutes."

Tristan unlocked the
door and they stepped into the large foyer. He tossed his keys on the cherry
wood table near the door.

"In there."
He pointed.

He followed Steele
into the great room and flicked the switch to the propane fireplace. With a
blue flame
poof
, the fire roared to
life in the ornate stone hearth.

Steele glanced over
to the bar area. "A gentleman would offer a drink."

"You aren't
staying long enough to have a drink. Talk," Tristan said.

Steele took a seat in
the wing chair and crossed his legs and smoothed the crease in his expensive
dress slacks.

"I will get
right to the point. You owe me for the blood bath debacle. I am here to
collect. I know what you are and who your father is."

Okay, now
he
needed a drink. Tristan walked to the
bar and poured himself a Hennessey. Taking a seat opposite Steele, he took a
long swig.

"Do you? And
what the hell are you? Not human."

"How observant.
I am Thrope. From the branch of Wolfen."

Tristan laughed.
"You are a damned Werewolf? Wonderful. Didn't think there were any around
here."

Steele looked
affronted. "I am not some slobbering moon beast. There are three branches,
of which there are Lycans, Weres and us. We are the elite."

Tristan waved his arm
in annoyance. "Forgive me if I don't keep up with all the various Packs of
wild dogs that exist in the Shadow World."

A flash of anger
flickered in Steele's eyes, the first sign of any emotion. He also saw yellow
slashes in the brown of his irises. The beast within.

"We are wolf shape-shifters.
Ask your father, he knows of us. The payment I require is simple. I wish for
your father to turn a Thrope of my choosing into a Vampire."

Tristan choked on his
drink. "You are insane. Why? To what purpose?"

"I could be rude
and state it is none of your business, but I know your father will want a
reason. Breeding is paramount to us. We are always striving for perfection in
our Packs. We wish to infuse Vampire blood into a branch of our species. If
your father agrees to this, consider the debt paid."

Tristan slumped back
into the chair. Damn and blast it. He would have to tell his father now. Or
would he? Turning someone was not a spur of the moment decision. A lot of
things had to be factored in. His father had not turned anyone in decades. It
was not something done easily or often by any Vampire. The Bureau would have to
be contacted and reams of paperwork filled out. What would become of Raynor
Nightwood if this blood incident came to light within the Blackthorne Clan, or
worse, the Bureau? He’d made a sworn oath not to repeat it. He honored his
word.

"No. Ask
something else of me. Not this."

Steele sat back and
tented his fingers. "I want nothing else. This will wipe the slate clean.
The debt must be paid. The Blood Oath fulfilled."

Tristan slammed his
glass on the nearby end table and stood. "This conversation is at an end.
Leave my house."

Steele also stood.
"Perhaps I will just approach your father myself and explain this
situation. I don't need you, half-breed."

Tristan, a good four
inches taller, leaned toward Steele with his fangs extended and began to growl
aggressively.

"Do not push me.
You cannot get anywhere near my father and you know it."

Steele smiled his
slimy, predatory smile again. His eyes glowed yellow.

"You will be
sorry you crossed me. You will fulfill this request. I will see to it."

Tristan hissed. His Vampire
blood was roaring in his veins.

"Leave,
now."

"As you wish, but
know this. We are not through."

When Tristan heard
the door close, he slumped into his chair again. His fangs receded.
 
He was
fucked.

****

Sleep was becoming a
luxury to Katrina, an elusive rare thing all because of Tristan Black. What
possessed her to run down those stairs and lunge herself at the man? What was
he even doing there, coming to see her? She didn't even ask or care. She wanted
him and she got him. What happened between them? It was wild and feral, sex on
the hood of his car and in her cousin's driveway. Thank God the night was
overcast and the nearest neighbors were far enough away, she hoped.
 
After she went in the house she sat in the
living room for an hour and waited for the Mounties to show up. Isn't there a
law about sex in a public place, indecent exposure, whatever? She had to admit,
the risk of discovery added fuel to the roaring lust fire burning between them.
How many times did he make her come, five, six? And where was he during some of
that heated, hot, animal sex? She tried to speak to him and he didn't answer.
He just-pounded away, worked her nub and sucked on her breast. Her fingers moved
over the faint mark he left. It burned and throbbed like it was alive. Just
like her whole body, alive in a way she did not think possible.

What did he mean by that parting statement, “never felt that with
any woman, ever.” Not even his wife? Those words alone kept her awake all night.
Yes, lots to talk about, like the split condom. She thought she could feel his
release, hot and thick rushing into the deepest parts of her. She thought she
imagined it. She wasn't on the pill and her periods were irregular, so it was hard
to gauge if she was ovulating or not. Now she had more worry and sleepless nights.
It would be just her damned luck to get pregnant from a wild, one-night stand.
No way. She shook her head. She was
not
going
there.

She stood before her open
closet. She had no idea if Tristan was going to serve her dinner. He never
mentioned it. She had better have something to eat before she left. What to
wear? Perhaps she could wear something easy for quick, naughty sex, like a
dress and no underwear. Dare she? Tristan awakened her inner wanton, that's for
sure. A front clasp bra was also in order as she was too large to go without
one. Hell, she would show up naked at his door if she could.

As Katrina moved her
few outfits along the pole, another thought clenched her heart. Maybe he was
having her to his house to let her down gently. No, a man like Tristan would do
it in a public place. He would walk away with that cool, indifferent look on
his face, the way he walked away from the woman on the dance floor at the pub.
Would he move on to the next conquest? She must've imagined what existed between
them. He was a womanizer by his own admission. She shook her head. No, there
was more here. How she knew she wasn’t sure. She had no vast experience to draw
on. She only knew what her heart told her. She held up a white cotton summer
dress with small green leaves in the design. This would do.

Two hours later as
she drove down the private gravel road leading to Tristan’s house, she marveled
at the scenery and the breathtaking view. There were only a few homes on this
hidden drive and all were large waterfront estates that reeked of money and
opulence.
 
Tristan’s was the last. The
property had a circular driveway that led to a lower level two-car garage
surrounded by perfectly manicured lawns and shrubs. It was an old Victorian era
home that had seen a few remodels complete with wraparound porch and multiple
balconies. The house even had a widow’s walk overlooking the ocean. Holy hell
he was rich, though the Benz convertible was a dead giveaway. She turned off
the engine. Tristan stood in a large picture window and gazed at her with arms
crossed and brows furrowed.
 
The room had
windows that wrapped around to the other side of the house. He was waiting for
her expectantly, or so she imagined.
 
Katrina sat for a minute to catch her breath. He hadn’t moved, just
continued to stare at her with an intensity that had her nerve endings
sparking. He was wearing a v-neck sweater of light gray wool and it hugged
every muscled plane of his upper torso. Why did she have the sudden urge to
break the damned big window and jump his very fine bones?

Taking a deep breath,
she climbed out of her Chevy Malibu rental and walked toward his front door.
Finally, he moved from the window.
 
He
had the door opened before she reached the front entrance. He stepped outside
and moved toward her with a steely purpose. Cupping her face, he lowered his
head and kissed her, really kissed her. Her toes curled in her high heel pumps.
A low feral moan came from deep within him, causing her to reply with a husky
moan of her own. He stepped back.

“We better go inside
before we make a spectacle of ourselves again.” He smiled.

Oh my. That stunning
smile was one of the best ones she had seen on anyone. It amped up his handsome
factor clear off the scale.

The house, like the
man himself, was gorgeous, classy and tasteful. He took her hand and led her
into a room opposite the one she had seen him standing in. The room had a huge
floor to ceiling stone fireplace and a low blaze burned in its hearth. Light
beiges and maroon shades added to the cozy ambiance of the living room. The
combination was entirely masculine and very Tristan. The walls were adorned
with oil paintings depicting historical battles from medieval knights to what
appeared to be army soldiers circa World War II. On the mantle over the
fireplace were statues of horses in full gallop. He motioned for her to take a
seat on the large plush leather sofa.

“Your home is lovely.
I hate to sound crass, but what do you do for a living?”

Tristan joined her on
the sofa, sitting quite close. He turned sideways and his intense gaze drew her
in. He placed one elbow on the back of the sofa and rested his head on his
closed fist. Tristan's long hair created a sensual curtain of mystery and her
insides churned with desire from the effect.

“Family money mostly,
generations old.”

“Oh? From your pirate
past?” she teased.

“You could say that,
but also our transport business, which consists of trucks and ships. We have offices
all along the Atlantic Coast of North America, though this is our home base. I
am not really involved in the day-to-day activities. We have competent people
who take care of the business. I am more of a CEO.”

Katrina looked
around. She had no idea he was this prosperous and it made her a little uneasy.
She wasn’t used to this kind of affluence and he seemed so at ease in his
surroundings.

“You wanted to talk?”
she said.