Dark Lover (19 page)

She found her cell phone. Then she decided that she couldn't call Kit again. She didn't want to have to explain what had happened—not that she really could.

He was a mess and she was confused. She, Sam Rose, a Slayer feared on all the city streets, was
confused
. She was never confused. She was always on course, climbing whatever mountain stood in her path. If she ever needed a friend, she needed one now. Maybe it was time to test her friendship with Kit.

She shivered. She didn't have any clothes and Maclean kept the AC on an unapologetically and environmentally unfriendly setting. She glanced at the time on her cell phone. It was half past five; she doubted she'd run into Gerard if she went up to the third floor and tried to find some clothes.

Then she felt his stare.

Slowly, her nape tingling, Sam turned and looked at the doorway.

Maclean stood there in the shadows of the dawn, wearing only his jeans, which weren't even buttoned, and the cross on the leather cord. He was watching her like a hawk. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, because his face was expressionless.

Her heart turned over. Sorrow and desire melded…

She didn't even want to try to make light of the moment.

There was nothing light about having sex like it was war.

He walked forward, his muscles rippling. Now she saw that he carried clothes in his hand. She tensed, almost expecting him to throw them at her, but instead, he handed them to her. “I called ye a car,” he said.

He had a red scratch on his jaw, another one on his shoulder. They were deep and one was still bleeding.

Sam took the clothes. Suddenly modest, she held the bundle in front of her body. Prior to last night, she'd have made a mocking remark about his being eager for her to leave. Instead, she said, “Thanks.”

He shrugged and walked back out.

 

W
HEN SHE WAS GONE
, Ian lay back on his bed, still clad in his jeans. He stared up at the ceiling, grim. What had just happened?

His heart was racing uncomfortably. Heated images kept replaying in jagged bits and pieces in his mind, when he never thought about his conquests afterward—not ever. But he wasn't sure that Sam Rose had been a conquest. He wasn't sure what had happened earlier that evening. He'd never been to bed with any woman and had such physical and violent sex. He hadn't ever wanted any woman the way he wanted her.

He touched himself, still aroused. She'd fought to dominate him. He'd fought back. He wasn't sure who'd won. Maybe he had. She now knew how good he was. But he was sorry he'd let her leave. He could easily take her again.

Why had he taken her so fiercely—why had he been so insatiable? So
desperate?

Ian was uneasy, uncertain. He'd been extremely attracted to her from their first meeting. He'd even wandered through time once or twice after that day in Oban, when he avoided leaping like a medieval man avoided the plague. But the attraction was worse now—constant, consuming. He didn't like having an attraction he could not control or walk away from.

He thought about the DVD, and wondered how two such savage lovers could get to that other place.

His gut tightened so badly it hurt.

He never let women touch him the way she had in the DVD—with tenderness or affection. If a woman smiled at him during sex, the way Sam had in the DVD, he ignored it, pretending not to see.

The constriction of his jeans told him how badly he wanted her again. In fact, thinking about her now was making it worse. He was incredulous and confused. She must have made a helluva impression on him, because once he took a woman, he was done with her. He never
wanted
a repeat performance. When he returned to a lover, it was always because no new conquest was on the horizon, or the woman was a means to an end, like Becca. Often he simply used women to escape himself. He craved sex night and day and he knew it had everything to do with the sixty-six years of captivity. When he was satisfying himself, there were no memories and he did not have a past.

He was a selfish lover, and he'd been told so a zillion times. He didn't care. He really didn't care how a woman felt when she was with him. The gods were vain enough to have made sure to make themselves so virile that their lovers were always pleased effortlessly. He'd been lucky enough to inherit that genetic ability from his great-grandfather, or so he assumed. He never bothered to please his lovers, it simply happened—usually the moment he really got down to the task at hand of pleasing himself.

But Sam Rose had the kind of face and body that made a man want to touch her. He couldn't recall ever stroking a lover. When he kissed his lovers, he did so savagely—and he'd avoided kissing Sam.

He stared at the ceiling until the moldings blurred. He hadn't caressed her, not even once. He'd pounded her—she'd pounded him. He hadn't kissed her, but he'd felt her skin acutely and been as acutely aware of her mouth. Now he trembled, recalling the one kiss they had shared ouside of the vault. It had been fierce and she had instigated it.

Suddenly he wished he'd kissed her, savagely or not, and touched her, maybe running his hand up and down one incredible leg. He was becoming hotter thinking about it.

What was wrong with him? Why was he lying in bed, hot and bothered, after sex?

He'd never known a woman like her. He could admit that. It went beyond the face and body. It went beyond her ability as a Slayer. He kept coming back to her courage. She had more courage in her pinkie than he had in his entire body. Her courage amazed him, enthralled him. Maybe that was the point of obsession.

Suddenly he hoped he hadn't hurt her.

Ian launched himself into a sitting position. He was an unfeeling, uncaring man and he knew it. It was all a part of his defective nature. When you were kept prisoner for over six decades, you had damned well better care only about yourself. He didn't think to change, didn't
want
to change, because being heartless was the best means of survival there was. He knew it firsthand.

But he didn't want to hurt Sam Rose. And what the hell did that mean?

Suddenly he recalled her standing naked in the living room, holding the track suit he'd given her in front of her body, as if shy or modest. She'd almost looked vulnerable…Sam Rose would never be vulnerable. He could not decipher that moment. It had simply been awkward for them both. And that didn't make any sense, either.

Deliberately, he hadn't tried to read her mind. He hadn't wanted to know what she was thinking.

That has to hurt
.

I like pain
.

He flushed. He was going to reveal the rest of his secrets while in her bed, if he wasn't careful. He hated pain, but the flashes of pain that ring caused were as necessary to him as breathing.

The images of the boy began, hazy and hurtful, but he closed his eyes and shut them out. Instead, he saw his grandfather, cruel and satisfied. He saw the various faces of his guards. He saw the monk, the last great evil he had been with, a captor who had toyed with his mind, at times his best friend, at other times, his worst enemy.

His gut churned with sick dismay now. The desire started to recede. Afraid he'd have a flashback, Ian got up and started to dress, but he was thoughtful.

He'd used Sam Rose for sex and she'd used him in return. He was accustomed to using women. He hadn't met a woman yet who wouldn't do whatever he wished in return for sex. It wasn't conscious on their parts. It was the power given by the gods, making sexual persuasion a form of hypnosis, making the sexual desire impossible to resist. He'd used Becca ruthlessly to get into the vault and scout it out, so he could then steal the page.

Sam Rose was very powerful. And she was smart. But she was starting to feel sorry for him.

And she had access to the file.

He pulled on a T-shirt. He hated her suspecting his secrets. He hated her compassion. He was almost certain he'd seen pity in her eyes a moment ago, as he had in Nick's office. He'd seen concern, too.

She'd meant to play him last night by showing him that tape. He smiled. But he hadn't been played, not by a long shot.

Why not let her feel sorry for him?

Could Sam Rose be manipulated into giving him that file?

He tensed. The last thing he wanted was involvement of any kind. Besides, he was incapable of even the most basic and casual relationships. He had no friends.

He should stay away from her—but he knew that was impossible. He remained too agitated with arousal, even
now. And he was accustomed to taking what he wanted, when he wanted it, especially when it came to sex.

He simply wasn't certain she could be manipulated just with sex.

But he could damn well try.

“A
RE YOU GOING TO
invite me up for a drink?” Sam stepped out of the shadows cast by the setting sun as she spoke.

Rupert Hemmer had just gotten out of his sedan and was about to enter his building. She'd been waiting for him. It was about six o' clock.

He slowly turned. Instead of evincing surprise, he smiled, pleased. “Well, if it isn't the mysterious Samantha. You stood us all up last night. I was so very disappointed.”

Sam smiled back at him, but her insides curdled. His evil was suddenly present, as if he'd kept it disguised previously. That could be done with black power or black magic. “Something came up.” Just in case he could read minds, she kept hers blank.

He looked at her now, taking in her short denim skirt, the muscle tank, and the heavy biker boots. “An interesting choice of attire for cocktails. Of course you can come up. Where's your latest toy?”

“Probably doing your wife.”

Hemmer's smile didn't falter but his expression darkened. She'd hit a nerve. “I expect attitude from you, Samantha. You will hardly unbalance me with your remarks.”

“Actually, it's Sam. And I expect blackmail from you, Rupert.”

He smiled coldly and led her past the doorman to the four brass elevators at the lobby's other end. “Maybe Becca is
with Maclean. She told me she's having drinks with the girls tonight. She has enough to go around, if you know what I mean.”

“So much for true love.” But her heart had lurched unpleasantly at the idea of Ian being with Becca Hemmer now.

Not that it should matter what he did or who he did it with. Last night had been casual and meaningless, for both of them. But she'd been thinking about him far too much and that inkling of compassion hadn't gone away. Worse, it seemed to have taken root beside a seed of concern.

Hemmer gave her a look. “I married her for her amazing body and the way she uses her mouth. Not to mention that my rivals all lose their wits when she's present.” He shrugged. “You have enough to go around, too, don't you, Samantha?”

“I'm actually all played out. Can you believe it?”

“It must have been quite the night.” His eyes gleamed as they stepped into the elevator. “You do know what it means if they're together?”

“It means we have your place all to our lonely selves. Lucky me. So, where did you get the DVD?” Hemmer had remained on the top of her to-do list. After all, he'd been the bearer of bad gifts. She'd spoken to Kit and the DVD wasn't a fake.

Which meant that one day, she and Maclean would make love. Her heart thundered.

Hemmer pressed the elevator button to the penthouse. “I collect sex tapes, Samantha. I decided to start a folder just for you.”

She tensed. “How nice.”

“I think so.”

“You went to a lot of trouble to get that tape, then.”

“Not really.”

“The video came from the future.”

“Clever girl.”

“Mortals can't time travel. So who does your dirty work for you?”

“Actually, even though I'm very human, I do have the power.”

Sam met his gaze, no longer smiling. It was not a good thing if Hemmer could leap through time at will. “Wow. So, what did it cost you—your soul?”

He led her out. “Something like that.” He smiled at her, as if truly pleased.

Sam shivered.

“Cold?”

“Some evil entities bring a great chill with them.”

“Yes, some do.”

“What do you expect me to do for you, Hemmer? Other than to do you, which I won't, actually, good girl that I am.”

He chuckled as they stepped into the large marble foyer where he'd held the previous evening's party; a handful of liveried servants immediately materialized. “I fully expect you to change your mind. I'm a very patient man and I can wait, Samantha.”

“It's Sam.”

He darkened again. “I so dislike nicknames.”

“I so dislike demons and their offspring, full-blooded or not. In fact, I dislike evil, period, no matter the shape, form, gender or DOB.”

He faced her. “You're not afraid of me. That will change.”

Sam shrugged. “Hope's a wonderful thing.”

“But the lack of respect, well, that does bother me. I admit it. I look forward to changing
that
myself…tonight.”

Sam wondered what ugly tricks he had up his sleeve. She wasn't afraid. Hemmer was repulsive. The world would be a better place without him. She decided then and there to be the one to do the world a favor, when the time
was right. Now she needed to know how he intended to use the DVD, and who his otherworldly connection was. “So let's cut all the crap, Hemmer. What do you want?”

“You know what I want.” He led her across the room.

She kept step with him, waiting.

“I want my property back.”

Sam laughed at him. “Maclean won't hand the page over to me—and if he did, I'd give it right to my boss!”

“Ah yes, the legendary Nick Forrester.”

Sam followed him to the back of the apartment, where the elevators and the vault were. He continued on into the media room. “How do you know Nick?” She was dismayed. Hemmer not only shouldn't know Nick, he shouldn't be aware of CDA's existence.

He gave her a dismissive look. “I'm not a fool. Forrester has been hunting the dark side for decades. We have some common interests.”

“Like the page?”

“Actually, yes, but that wasn't what I was thinking of.”

“So what do you intend? To hand a copy of the tape over to Nick? He won't care. More importantly, I won't care.”

He paused before the entertainment center and smiled at her. “I do my homework, Samantha, before I ever begin negotiations. How else would I have acquired my billions?”

“And that means…?”

“It means I know that you wouldn't care if your sex tape was on every movie screen in America.”

This was not going well, Sam thought. “So blackmail is out.”

“Actually, blackmail can be so effective, if done right.”

She shivered. “And you will blackmail me…how?”

“Get me the page or I will torture Maclean—and enjoy every moment.” And his eyes blazed.

Sam went still. She'd been outplayed. The DVD had
been a diversion. He knew too much about her and her feelings if he'd use Maclean to threaten her. But of course he did. They'd made love on that tape and he'd seen it. She fought the sudden dismay. Ian couldn't withstand torture. She simply knew it. He'd been through enough.

But Maclean had white power, even if he didn't use it very often. She knew he was powerful—she felt it every time he was present. So the question was, how much evil had Hemmer acquired? What could he do, exactly? And was Ian powerful enough to thwart him? “If push comes to shove, I have a feeling Maclean will eat you up and spit you out in indigestible lumps.”

“And you will watch,” he added softly. “I will torture him until he sobs like a little boy and begs for mercy like the coward that he is. Once he's broken all over again, I can think of numerous ways to add to my power while adding to his humiliation.”

A shiver went through her. “So you plan to subdue both of us?”

“I certainly do. Now, what do you prefer? You strike me as the dirty martini type.”

“A virgin Mary,” she said.

He smiled. “You are delightful, Samantha. Have you ever bored a man?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“I've decided to forgive you for standing me up last night. In fact, I've decided to be the one providing this evening's entertainment—if I haven't done so already.”

Sam tensed. This was it—his big move. His king to her queen.

An entire wall housed a built-in wet bar and a media center. He turned and the oversize cherrywood doors opened, revealing a movie-size screen. “I do like modern technology,” he said.

Just then, Sam did not like surprises. “So what's on the
Free Per View?” Did he have more videos of her in the sack? With Maclean? With her past lovers? Sam told herself she didn't care, but somehow, she knew that she was not going to like whatever came up on that screen.

He sent her a dark smile and inserted a DVD. It was night and there was a full moon. She waited for a wolf to howl. Instead, there was a city skyline. The rooftops seemed old-fashioned.

She heard a horn blaring and then there were odd, rasping sounds, clawlike, maybe the sounds of rodents.

There was sharp, frightened panting.

It was human.

It was time to walk away.

He seized her wrist. “Not so fast.”

Sam was about to shake him off but two demons appeared and closed in on her instead. Before Sam could move to take the two guards out, Hemmer said, “But you are so concerned for your dark lover.”

Sam went still, returning her gaze to the screen.

A cage was swinging slowly in the air. And something was in it…no, not something. Someone.

The camera zoomed in.

And she saw the boy's pale face, his glazed eyes. He gripped the bars, clearly wanting to get out. But there was no expression on his face. He was so still, he could have been carved from wax. He might have only been eight or nine years old, but she knew who it was without being told.

Sam breathed hard.

A hand moved into the frame. The camera zoomed in. It was a man's hand and he wore a very large, gold antique signet ring. As it began unlocking the door to the cage, the boy seized that hand. Sam's heart lurched. The boy began kissing it…

“He's not so sexy now, is he?” Hemmer laughed.

She was sick enough to vomit. They'd really broken
him. Sam felt surging anger. It consumed her and she didn't even try to control it. She whirled, impaling one demonic guard with her dagger. His eyes widened and he began to collapse. Before the other guard reached for her, she summoned the tiny, razor-edged disk into her hand. She flung it at his throat. It went through skin, cartilage, flesh and bone, severing his head from his shoulders. Then she whirled to take care of Hemmer with her bare hands.

“You really should choose your liaisons with more care. Do you really want to become involved with that pathetic bastard?” Before he finished speaking, he vanished.

Sam cried out in frustration. Then she strode to the video system and hit the power button, stopping the tape. She stood there, trembling in rage.

Hemmer was allied with an evil entity that had given him demonic power.

And that video…she wished she hadn't seen it.

She reminded herself it had only been a boy in a cage, but the reminder didn't work. Because that boy had been broken…

When they'd taken that video, had he been their prisoner for months? A few years? Or had it already been decades?

How long had they kept him in there?

Had that been Moray's hand?

And in that single moment, she knew that she'd get Hemmer the page of illusion if pressed. She would not allow Maclean to suffer again.

But they weren't at that impasse yet.

Sam hurried over to the dead demons. They were beginning to disintegrate and she gathered up her weapons. The dagger went into a thigh strap under her skirt, the disk into a case strapped around her waist beneath her tank top. His office was adjacent to the vault. Maybe she could find the code to get inside, if she were really lucky. She doubted she had a lot of time.

“I told ye to stay away from Hemmer.”

Sam hadn't even felt his presence. She jerked, looking up. Maclean stood in the media room doorway, as still as a statue, his face unusually pale. “How long have you been there?”

“A moment,” he said harshly.

She stared. She couldn't tell if he knew what had just happened with the video. She prayed that was not the case. “You know what they say. You can't teach an old dog new tricks. Why are you here?”

“Hemmer is dangerous. I said it before and I'm saying it again.”

She stood. “No kidding. In fact, he happens to have some superbad friends who've given him some superbad powers. What brings you down to this neck of the woods, Maclean?”

“I knew ye were here.”

She stared sharply. “Were you spying on me?”

He shrugged.

She was grim. If he had the kind of visual telepathy she was coming to believe he had, he could lurk on her at any time. It was unnerving. “I know you didn't come down here to rescue me.”

“Yer a tough girl. Ye don't need me to rescue ye.”

“Even tough girls can use a helping hand from time to time,” she snapped. “Anyway, your timing is perfect. Hemmer vanished—into time. Yep, he has the power. Isn't that great?” She started toward him. He didn't move. She halted in front of him. “I'm asking you for a big, fat favor. I want to get inside the vault before he returns.”