Darkest Desire of the Vampire: Wicked in Moonlight\Vampire Island (Harlequin Nocturne) (14 page)

Though there were no official reports, neighboring islands whispered about the disappearances. No matter how invisible a person might be, someone always noticed when a person vanished as if they had never existed.

For vampires, sex and feeding were very much linked. Having sexual contact with one was like waving a red banner in front of a bull. And with her intoxicating scent, the fresh, innocent woman he was watching would attract more attention than most.

Tearing his eyes away from the sweet morsel of a human, Sloane found Pierre, the island’s general maintenance worker, standing inches behind him, fangs out and lust in his eyes. The aggressive stance forced Sloane’s own fangs to descend, and he hissed, long and deep.

Pierre blinked, some of his bloodlust clearing. He raked a hand through his long, scraggly hair and with visible difficulty retracted his fangs.

“Sorry, man.” He took several deliberate steps back, rocking a bit on the deck of the boat that Sloane was repairing—the boat that would have picked the human up at the airport had it been functional. The young vampire was still clumsy, unsure of his skin, not unlike a newborn baby.

Sloane supposed that he should be nicer to the kid. He had no more seniority on Vampire Island than Pierre did—didn’t consider himself a member of the clan that inhabited it and had no interest in joining. But he was a dangerous vampire all the same, a creature who had been in the military before his death and after.

Still, no matter how young the newborn was, Sloane did not like being snuck up on, and to emphasize his point, he snarled for longer than was strictly necessary.

Pierre issued a noise not unlike the whine of a puppy. “Dude. I said I was sorry. I just...I mean, look at her. She’s so sweet. I didn’t mean to disrespect you. I just couldn’t help myself.”

Sloane stared down the younger vamp, then nodded once, seriously. He was itching to turn back to the woman. He could still smell her, and though he was old enough to know better, he understood completely why Pierre had lost momentary control.

Since arriving on the island six months earlier, he had hunted animals to get his blood. Before that he would drink either animal blood from the butcher’s, or human blood that had been donated to a blood bank, but he hadn’t fed from a human vein in a very long time. In his mind, doing so made him no better than an animal himself, and he wasn’t sure that he could control himself if he did.

The smell of this beautiful woman, however, was tempting him like nothing he had ever known. No matter that she likely wasn’t as innocent as she appeared, that very same quality tugged at him, likely, he knew, because he had so long ago lost any shred of his own.

“Doesn’t look like a fanger, eh?” Pulling his fangs back into his gum line, Sloane resisted the urge to grab Pierre by the scruff of his neck and throw him off the small boat and into the water for the comment.

If he wanted to stay on Vampire Island, and for the time being he did, he couldn’t. Though he hadn’t pledged allegiance to the clan, he still had to abide by its rules. The vampire version of “my roof, my rules.”

Though he was now acquainted with the rumors about Lucian St. Baptiste’s illness, the vampire still cast a dark shadow. Sloane knew his reputation well. Outsiders did not lay hands on any of his children, vampire or human, without facing dire consequences. The vampire kept a tight rein on the rules because if he did not, his entire delicate ecosystem could crumble in an instant.

Not that that scared Sloane, at least not overmuch. It was more that he didn’t wish to rock the boat, not while current circumstances suited him so well. Though he did find it odd that he hadn’t yet met his employer, he figured the man was ill, eccentric or both, and it was no business of his.

“Go away, Pierre.” Looking down at the boat that he was standing on, Sloane chose words instead of fists. He didn’t want to argue with the young pup of a vampire—he wanted to retreat, away from the enticing smell of the woman, away from the disturbing memories that she evoked. He wanted to go sequester himself on the houseboat on which he currently lived with the tequila that he kept in the freezer for the occasions when he needed oblivion.

He couldn’t, nor could he toss Pierre into the water the way that he wanted to. He was old enough himself, had learned enough control, to do so. “And stay away from that human if you know what’s good for you. Any who are that pretty are for Lucian, and you know it.”

“I was just looking, man.” Surly like a teenager, Pierre began to skulk off the boat, his white skin looking even paler in the mid-afternoon sun. “Besides, Marcus wanted to know if this boat will be ready soon.”

“It’ll be done by the time you get back there to tell him.” Tightening one last screw, Sloane straightened and, stretching to his full height of six foot five, pulled his water bottle from the small cooler beside him. It was opaque plastic, the better to hide the contents—nicely chilled pig’s blood—from the humans on the island, although many knew exactly what was in it.

Most would have even offered to provide it.

“Fine.” Sloane sighed as Pierre finally—finally—left, breaking into a full run at vampire speed the moment his feet touched the sand, off to report back to Marcus, his master.

Sloane watched as the woman and Gaspar, who in his opinion was far too friendly with all of the females on the island, drove away to the complex. Her scent lingered in the air around him, teasing his senses and making him hungry.

Making him hungry in more ways than one. The thirst that burned in his throat despite his drink made him full of irritation with himself.

He’d been off his game lately, true enough—that was why he was hiding away in the middle of the South Pacific to begin with. Once upon a time, he had had no qualms about biting—and having sex with—beautiful human women. Then he had met Ana and had wanted to keep her with him forever. He’d turned her.

The result had shown him that he would likely never touch another human woman again.

Still, of late he had been feeling lonely. His best friend, a human male, had passed away only months earlier, and Sloane had been reminded of why humans in general were bad news. He needed to stay away from them entirely.

Drooling—and lusting—after tiny little redheaded warm blood was not a good start.

* * *

“Has she arrived?” Lucian St. Baptiste pursed his lips in agitation at the overly eager female voice on the other end of the phone line. Humans were, to him, no more than a source for food and sex, and to have his occasional dinner call his personal line irritated him to no end.

“You got her on the plane?”

“I did. It wasn’t easy to convince her to go.” He could hear the frown in Jessie Spencer’s voice. Really, it had been too perfect to discover that his descendant’s friend had a serious fascination for the occult. The vampire he had sent to gather information on Isla had only had to do some gentle convincing for Jessie to agree to a consensual bite.

After that she had been hooked, an addict desperate for her next fix. She would have done anything for an invitation to come live on Vampire Island—and that included setting up the woman who had once been her best friend.

“This number was given to you for use if, and only if, you had difficulties getting Isla on her way to the island.” Lucian layered his voice with steel. “I do not understand why you are calling. I am not pleased.”

There was a momentary silence, followed by panic so rich that he could almost smell it. “I’m sorry, sir. Truly. I...I just wanted to make sure that everything else was still in place. You know...about me moving to the island.”

Lucian hissed out a breath.

He needed the blood of his descendant, and this woman had delivered Isla to the island. In return, he had promised her residence.

“I gave you my word, and it will be honored.” Having lost interest in the conversation, he turned his attention to the text that had just come through on his cell phone. It was from Gaspar, the man he had assigned to be the woman’s shadow for the time it took to woo her to his side.

He would take blood by force, if need be, but it was so much sweeter when the human came willingly. And he had been waiting a very long time for this blood.

Subject has arrived.

This was all that Gaspar wrote, but Lucian’s lips curled into a smile. He cut off the stammering woman on the other end of the phone.

“Details will be sent soon. Do not call here again.” Standing as he hung up the private line, Lucian paced to the window of his office, staring out at the sunshine that he no longer enjoyed. The legend of vampires burning in the sun was nonsense, of course, but he found that it worsened his headaches.

Yes, he couldn’t wait to taste Miss Isla Miller’s blood. It couldn’t come soon enough.

Chapter 2

I
sla had grown up in a wealthy suburban neighborhood in a large house with a manicured lawn. Even still, the small bungalow to which she had been assigned made her jaw drop.

“This is our most exclusive bungalow.” Gaspar sounded proud as he waited for Isla to catch up. She didn’t seem able to keep up with his freakishly quick pace. Slapping one hand on the side of the building, she leaned against the wood as she tried to capture her breath.

“It’s...lovely.” She knew that she seemed like a complete rube, but Isla couldn’t help looking around her with wide eyes. The bungalow was larger than her entire apartment at home—an apartment that her mother and sisters lifted their noses at—and was built right
over
the water. She swallowed thickly, regarding the stilts that, though they appeared sturdy enough, had the opening credits of
Jaws
running through her head.

“You have not seen the inside yet.” With a wide smile, Gaspar opened the door wide and ushered Isla inside. As Gaspar pointed out the Egyptian-cotton sheets, the Jacuzzi bath overlooking the ocean and the breathtaking view of the horizon, Isla felt something uncomfortable skitter over her skin. Her attention had been caught by the thick panel of glass in the floor that allowed her to see the dark water beneath the structure.

“Breathtaking, is it not?” Isla started when Gaspar spoke from right behind her. She had thought he was across the room. She turned and found him staring into the depths of the water beneath their feet, entranced.

“How thick is this glass?” She could hear the nerves in her words, and Gaspar’s soft chuckle and reassuring smile did nothing to alleviate the sensation of being...well, exposed was the best thing that she could think of.

She imagined that the glass had been put in place as a novelty, for visitors to watch schools of tropical fish and to admire the jewel-toned waters of Tahiti. She couldn’t help but think, however, that the opposite could be true, too—that something from beneath could be watching
her.

Isla shuddered lightly, then reprimanded herself for her overly active imagination. She looked up to find Gaspar’s pale blue eyes trained on her intently. He seemed to be searching for...something, but she couldn’t tell what.

“You are different than most.” At Gaspar’s words, Isla shifted uncomfortably. “Most see nothing but the beauty of an island such as this. They do not recognize the danger beneath such beauty.”

“Right.” What was she supposed to say to that? “Is there someplace where I can get some lunch maybe?” Isla was feeling peckish after her long day of travel, and she grabbed at the opportunity to distract her intent concierge. “Nothing fancy. Just a sandwich or something is fine.”

Gaspar still seemed fixated on her. His head was cocked to the side as he examined her, and Isla swallowed thickly, not sure what to say or do.

“I will have an assortment of lunch foods delivered to the suite.” An emotion that Isla couldn’t quite identify flickered over the man’s face, but then it was gone before she could study it further. If she had to label it, she would have said that he was perhaps a bit sad.

“Thank you.” The thought of staying in the bungalow, however exposed she felt there, was highly preferable to leaving and exploring the grounds by herself.

Irritation washed over her skin, and it was all directed at herself. The whole purpose of accepting this trip was to nudge her way out of her comfort zone, yet here she was, thwarting her own efforts.

“That’s very kind of you, but I think I’ll take a walk and explore a bit.” Another expression that she couldn’t quite interpret flickered over the man’s face.

“As you wish, Miss Miller. You will find a small sandwich bar by the pool.” Gaspar nodded, then hesitated, seeming on the edge of saying something that he wasn’t sure he should say.

“Thanks, Gaspar.” After assuring him that she had her pager in hand, she followed him back out into the sunlight. He was silent as he walked her to the end of the dock, speaking only when they were about to part ways.

“The owners of the resort prefer that guests stay within the grounds. Liability issues, you know.” Isla nodded in agreement, distracted by her new surroundings. When her concierge snapped her name she looked toward him, and she was startled to find that his expression was deadly serious.

“Whatever you do, Miss Miller, please be careful. The owner of the suite would be most displeased should anything happen to you.”

* * *

Isla decided that her adventurous new attitude had perhaps been a bad idea.

Sucking nervously at the remains of her watered-down lemonade, she felt conspicuous. Perhaps there was some Tahitian custom that she was unaware of. Why else would the others who had gathered around the pool in the space of time she’d been there be so obviously interested in her?

Even the ones who were obviously couples seemed interested in her. One woman had even winked when she’d caught Isla’s eye.

All of the unexpected attention made Isla feel as though she were caught in a dream, one of the ones in which she was naked in public and surrounded by mocking people. These people, however, weren’t mocking her. No, many seemed...attracted, for lack of a better word. And that, she reminded herself as she got off her lounge chair and moved away from the pool, was ridiculous.

“Oh!” Having turned back quickly to see if she was still the subject of curiosity, Isla found her way blocked by a wall of solid flesh. Fright shuddered through her as she shrieked and turned around.

Cursing herself for her rudeness, she shook the nerves away.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m so clumsy.” Stepping back to smooth her dress, Isla found herself looking up at one of the most handsome men that she had ever seen—and that included Mr. McConaughey himself.

The man nodded, saying nothing, and Isla swallowed around a suddenly dry throat. Gorgeous as he was, he was looking at her as if he was a predator and she was his next meal.

Despite that, she felt an attraction tug at her, one more intense than anything she had ever felt.

“Is everyone here gorgeous?” She didn’t realize that she had said the words aloud until the ghost of a smirk appeared on the man’s lips. She cringed and looked at her toes, which she had painted bright coral for the trip.

She couldn’t resist looking back up at the man. And then there it was, that feeling that she had been waiting for so long. That tug, right in the depths of her belly.

Desire. Something about him was...magnetic.

He wasn’t at all the type of man that she usually gave a second glance to. He was tall, over six feet if her guess was correct, and his muscles pressed against pale skin. His hair was raven dark, a mess of silky curls, and the eyes that regarded her with something dangerous in their depths were the color of a cappuccino.

More than that, those muscled arms of his were painted with intricate, sapphire-blue tattoos, something that she had never particularly cared for before. She found the ink fascinating, however, and the small silver studs that winked on his earlobes intrigued her, too.

“Ahem.” The man still hadn’t spoken, but he was watching her intently, just as people by the pool had. His attention, however, didn’t set her on edge or make her want to flee.

No, instead she had to resist the urge to jump straight into his arms.

“I...I’m Isla.” When in Rome, and all that.

The man blinked, as if she had surprised him, though he swallowed down the emotion quickly.

He seemed skilled at presenting an expressionless face.

“My name is Sloane Goldhawk.” Narrowing his eyes, he cocked his head to one side as he studied her as if he were trying to figure something out. “I am the mechanic on the island.”

“It’s—it’s nice to meet you.” She held out her hand, and the man stared at it like he’d never seen the gesture before, so she quickly pulled it back. Though she’d had limited interactions with mechanics—she rode the subway to work—something about the information didn’t jive with what she saw in front of her.

He seemed...powerful. Charismatic. Someone who should be covering his tattoos with a business suit every morning before heading to work to run his international corporation.

“Are you settling in all right?” Isla looked up at Sloane with wide eyes.

“How did you know I’d just arrived?”

That whisper of a smile appeared on Sloane’s lips again, and he leaned in, just an inch, but it was enough to set Isla’s pulse skittering through her veins.

“I was working on the boat that was supposed to pick you up from the airport.” She inhaled deeply without thinking about it. Sloane smelled of an exotic and delicious mix of herbs and soap.

“Also, we don’t have many reservations this week. It’s a small resort. It would be hard to miss you.” Isla looked up, dazed, as Sloane drew back, amusement fully visible on his face by this point.

“Oh.” That must have been why she’d gotten so much attention at the pool—hers was a fresh face.

At that moment, she couldn’t have cared less. Sloane was...teasing her?

Maybe even flirting with her?

Isla bit her lower lip, inhaling sharply. No. No way was this gorgeous man attracted to her. He was an employee of the island.... It was probably part of his contract, to make the female guests feel special.

She watched as his stare tracked over cheeks that she knew were flushed and eyes that she could tell were wide with the beginnings of a crush.

She felt like an idiot.

“Um. It’s nice to meet you, Sloane. I...I’m going to go finish my walk now.” Cheeks burning, Isla nodded awkwardly, then cast her eyes to the ground as she hurried away.

* * *

Sloane watched as the petite woman hurried down the tiled path to the gates of the resort. Though she seemed as if she couldn’t wait to be outside the resort, she paused and looked around guiltily before she slipped out of the grounds.

Sloane wrestled for a long moment with feelings that he didn’t want to have. Clearly she didn’t care that it wasn’t safe for the humans on the island to venture off the resort property—not only was the rest of the island a tangle of wild, overgrown jungle, exotic wild animals and all, but the verdant foliage hid the occasional rogue vampire, one who had tired of Lucian’s rules and who had fled the confines of the resort to make it on their own. These rogues subsisted almost entirely on animal blood, and an unaware human would make for a celebratory treat for any of them.

Or perhaps the seemingly shy, mild-mannered woman was simply overwhelmed by the vast amount of attention that she was attracting and wanted some room to breathe.

Still...why should he care? No matter what her demeanor seemed to suggest, if she was on the island, she had to have some knowledge of the vampire population that inhabited it. Those same vampires were responsible for her well-being, not him.

Although there was something...different...about this human. It started with her smell, which, while delicious, held a note of something that he had never before smelled on a human.

It didn’t matter, he reminded himself. He was done with humans. They were too fragile, their lives too easily lost.

Or turned, and the turning could be yet another way to break them. He shuddered at the memory of Ana. The sweet human he had known had died in the change, leaving behind a feral animal who wouldn’t be controlled.

The past was in the past, he reminded himself. He needed to focus on the present. He knew better now.

Sloane watched as Isla inhaled a deep breath that he heard even from where he stood, nearly the length of a football field away. She seemed to brighten, away from the scrutiny of others, and though he was cursing himself for having noticed her at all, he found her shyness intriguing.

Alluring.

With a muttered curse, Sloane trudged after her, slowing his pace to that of a human’s.

Even if she was the kind of woman who didn’t believe in the paranormal, this resort didn’t seem like the kind of place that she would choose to vacation in. Simply put, there was more to her, to her story, than met the eye.

And she clearly needed some time alone. Sloane sighed heavily as he slipped out the gates behind her. She walked blithely along ahead of him, growing more sure with every step. She moved with a grace that he had never before seen in a human. Sloane reminded himself that it was none of his business what the woman did—none of his business if she wanted to wander off into the depths of the jungle. He shouldn’t be concerned that, as she’d eaten her sandwich by the pool, the vampires just waking from their day’s sleep had been inhaling the tropical scent of her blood and looking at her like she was dinner. He shouldn’t have cared that the human fangers had eyed her suspiciously, jealous of their paranormal attachments.

Something about the woman pulled at him, and it was more than her fresh beauty or the alluring scent that wafted off her skin. Maybe it was the human fragility that he saw.

Maybe he so badly felt the urge to protect her because he hadn’t been able to protect Sully from his ultimate death. Hadn’t been able to protect Ana from the insanity that had swallowed her. And wouldn’t a shrink have a field day with that little bit of introspection.

“Get with it, Goldhawk.” Sloane scowled at himself as he followed Isla through what had possibly, maybe, once been a path and now was long overgrown.

He was a vampire. He was, by nature, supposed to be hedonistic, interested only in things that he wanted and needed. Right now he wanted to keep an eye on the attractive human.

Why did he need to ponder it beyond that?

He heard the water before he saw it. He smelled the minerals that saturated the liquid, a scent that reminded him of his home—his original, human home—in what was now the Rocky Mountains in Canada. Breathing it deep into lungs that no longer needed air, Sloane observed Isla’s obvious pleasure in the discovery of the small tropical waterfall, the one that had carved a small, cool pool out of the rock below it.

“Oh!” He couldn’t help but smile at the small exclamation of delight that slipped from her rosy lips. Thinking to keep an eye on her while she sat by the small pool, he bent his knees in preparation, then jumped up to the top of one of the trees that bordered the small pool. He settled into a crouch on an outstretched branch, his movements barely disturbing the heavy, waxy leaves.