Dead, Undead, or Somewhere in Between (8 page)

Goose left a few hours later, and I had to force myself to get ready. I didn’t want to go, but delaying my foray into the weird and freaky wouldn’t accomplish anything aside from making me look like a messy grunge chick.

By the time I left my apartment, it was already dark. Streetlights illuminated the street in big fat halos of light.

“Hi Disco.” I was relieved he’d chosen to stand in my line of sight instead of jump-starting my heart, as he seemed so prone. He was still difficult to see in the shadows, dressed in black.

“Rhiannon.” He moved away from the car he was leaning against. “You look beautiful this evening.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere with me,” I joked. We walked down the street, steps in harmony with one another.

“What will it take?” he asked, staring into the darkness.

“Do you really want to know the answer to that question?” I laughed under my breath. For all he knew, I’d require a lifetime of servitude.

His voice smooth and enticing when he answered simply, “I do.” He grinned at me, eyes sparkling.

“How about some answers? Nothing excites a girl more than knowledge.” I didn’t mention the fact it would ease a shit load of my concerns.

“What would you like to know?”

I started out with a good one. “Can you really read minds?”

“Yes.” He was facing forward, not meeting my eyes.

“But you don’t read mine?”

“No.” He shook his head, blue eyes focusing on me briefly before turning away.

“That will get you somewhere with me, I value my privacy.” I hoped being honest would keep him honest too. Respect garnered respect. “What about crosses, holy water, and sleeping in coffins? Is any of that true?”

“We don’t particularly care for crosses, holy water can melt off our skin, and no, we don’t sleep in coffins.” He smiled at the last part.

“That’s good to know.” I glanced over and his face was blank again, offended by something I said. I spoke in rush to clarify my previous statement. “I don’t mean it like that. I meant it would suck to sleep inside a hard little box every night.”

He grinned wryly. “I suppose it would.”

I inspected him closely. He appeared to be in his late twenties, and that was pushing it. With that unblemished skin, he could easily pass as younger, but there was no way to know for certain.

“How old are you anyway?”

“If I answer, will you answer a question for me?” His eyes flickered over, but this time, they stayed put.

“Maybe.” Some answers were easy, others no so much. It all depended on the subject, and Disco loved personal questions.

“I was born in 1837.” He barely drew a breath before he asked his question, not allowing me time to absorb just how hocking old he was. “Where is your family, Rhiannon?”

“Dead,” I answered flatly. “A drunk swiped our van one afternoon on the way home from the beach. My parents died instantly.”

“How old were you?”

“Technically, you’ve had your one question,” I said, but answered, “I was ten.”

“So young…” His voice trailed off, and he looked at me with a mixture of pity and sadness, which pissed me off.

“Don’t,” I snapped in anger, furious at being pitied. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me. Bad shit happens to everyone, and my number was up. It’s called life.”

“Who cared for you?” He asked the question innocently enough, unaware of the ramifications and depth that one answer entailed.

The truth was, no one cared for me. Psychotic people put me up in their house of depravity while horrific things took place. Sure, things got better. After I was given to a real family who gave a shit.

“The state of Florida,” I responded after a moment.

We walked the remaining distance to the Long Island railroad in silence. He didn’t pry, and I didn’t ask any more questions, each of us content to share space without the complication of conversation.

We sat next to one another in an attempt to be inconspicuous, which wasn’t easy. Disco didn’t look like your average guy, and when he nailed you with those eyes of his, you could sense something absolutely lethal lingering beneath the surface. People didn’t know if they should mug him or stay the fuck away.

A sane person would choose the latter.

Halfway to our destination, the train stopped, and a few people stepped on. I was too busy focusing on my clothing to notice the new passengers. Wearing head to toe black meant Disco and I matched perfectly. We couldn’t have planned it better.

His body shifted closer, and I peered into his face, instinctively braced to push him away. He shifted closer, wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and I found it impossible to tear my gaze away from his bright blue eyes.

“Relax, Rhiannon. I’d prefer to do this than rip apart the three sloughs that just boarded the train, if you don’t mind.”

“What are you talking about?” I didn’t glance around, not wanting to be obvious. He leaned even closer, and I held my breath.

“The three men that boarded the train at the last stop are thinking rather unpleasant things. I’d like to show them that acting on those impulses would prove detrimental to their throats.”

His hand came up, touching my hair at the temple, following the strands down to my shoulder. He was so close, I could smell him—sweet and earthy, with a hint of cloves and cinnamon. He looked into my eyes, and heat overtook my body, drifting along my skin as I started to tremble.

Breathless, I forced the word from my mouth. “Stop.”

He lowered his eyes, and suddenly, it was easier to think. The trembling lessened, and I was back in the seat on the train. When the doors opened at the next stop, I watched the three young men in jeans and leather jackets exit. They turned and gave me the kind of attention that tells you they’ve imagined your naked body contorted and used in all sorts of disgusting ways.

Disco removed his arm from my shoulders, and I scooted toward the window. The rest of the trip was awkward. I was aware of him next to me, and the lingering hint of cloves continued to tease my senses.

We exited the train and walked in silence, arriving at Stony Brook with fifteen minutes to spare. I wasn’t at all surprised that CeCe would live here. It was a privileged area.

“I would like to monitor your thoughts after you cross the threshold,” Disco said unexpectedly.

“Uh.” I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“I won’t listen the entire time,” he reassured me. “Only at intervals, in the event something goes wrong.”

“I really don’t like the idea of you in my head,” I said. “It gives me the willies. Besides, you could hear more than I want you to.”

“I won’t take advantage. I give you my word.”

My mind had too much baggage trapped inside that I didn’t want him or anyone else to see, but he could have listened in without asking. That had to account for something.

“Okay. But no digging around in there.”

We stopped at the brick mailbox marked with the white plastic numbers 243. The property was isolated, the houses nearby hidden behind trees. The numerous windows were spaced far enough to allow the light to cascade onto the manicured lawn. The large two-car garage door was shut, three cars already parked in front.

I was late.

Maybe that had been her intention all along.

I turned toward Disco. “Where will you be?”

“Right here.” He gave me an encouraging smile. “If you need me, I’ll hear you.”

“Then here goes nothing.” I gave my head and shoulders a good shake to loosen up, took a deep breath, and started walking toward the house.

There is such a thing as hell, and I had walked willingly inside.

Marcia wasn’t much older than me, a lithe brunette with cocoa skin and shining black eyes. She said she worked in commercial television, and with her lovely complexion, I could see why. Treenie was in her thirties, with big blue eyes and blonde hair trimmed into a stylish pixie. Amanda was a high school boy’s wet dream with mahogany hair, tanned skin, and huge breasts.

I chose to sit as far away from them as was possible—as in all the way across the fucking room. They kept touching one another intimately, staring at me all the while, their hungry gazes lingering for far too long.

I cautiously sipped on my glass of wine and was happy to discover that the contents didn’t contain so much as a trace of vampire blood.

At least one part of the evening was looking up.

“We’re so glad you joined us, Janet.” Marcia gave me a bizarre grin.

“Thanks,” I said, clearing my throat and trying to remain distant but friendly.

CeCe announced that a big surprise was due to arrive. Otherwise, I would have made my apology and gotten the hell out an hour before.

“Have you ever met a vampire?”

“Nope,” I lied smoothly.

She batted her eyelashes, voice becoming raspy. “They are liquid sex.”

Women with a hard on for the dark side. How appealing.

I remembered Disco was listening and tried to keep my thoughts under control. Changing my train of thought, I picked at a loose thread on my bell sleeve while silently recanting random nursery rhymes. I was into the third line of Mary had a little lamb when a loud knock ricocheted off the high ceilings. I turned to watch as Marcia, Treenie and Amanda rushed out of the room, their high heels clicking on the floor.

I heard CeCe’s high-pitched voice as she invited someone inside. The girls chimed together, their excited chatter changing to husky murmurs. As their footsteps approached, and I stood anxiously, an inner warning screeched inside my head.

“And this,” CeCe said, her voice a raspy purr, “is who I told you about.”

My heart stopped beating as a massive spike of adrenaline surged through my veins and the world seemed to stand still.

Oh Christ almighty, oh my dear God
.

CeCe had invited a vampire into her house.

He was huge, well over six-feet tall. His long black hair flowed straight down his thick broad shoulders. He was dressed almost entirely in black, the blue silk shirt beneath his jacket being the only non-leather item of clothing. He moved like all vampires, with grace and precision.

This was not what I expected.

I needed to get the hell out.

“A surprise indeed.” The floorboards creaked as he came forward. His eyes remained on me, but his head turned in CeCe’s direction. “You did even better than I expected. Thank you.”

My thoughts somersaulted when he crowded my senses, seeping into my subconscious. The women clung to him, wrapping hands around his shoulders and waist, moving in synch with his steps as he drew near. I glanced at Treenie, then Marcia, and finally, Amanda. Their eyes were glazed, oblivious to everything in the room—except him.

My eyes grew wide in alarm and comprehension.

“What’s your name?” he whispered, and each syllable seemed to caress my skin.

I closed my eyes and fought the compulsion to tell him whatever he wanted to know. When that didn’t work, I bit my tongue. The pain gave a temporary reprieve, allowing me to think rationally.

“Someone who’s leaving.”

I tried to take a step, but stopped, feet refusing to work. I tried again, but my legs felt like dead weight. Each instruction I sent my brain stopped short at the stem, my body detached from the command center.

“But you just got here.” He stepped closer, voice dropping an octave, the tenor deep and inviting. Liquid heat swept through me. My body sagged and my eyes closed. He was invading my mind, and I could feel him all over me. His tongue swept along my skin, teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh. His fingers traced the line of my jaw and collarbone, past the hollow on my neck, toward my breasts.

“Stop.” My growl was husky, like a purr.

I bit down on my tongue again, hard enough to taste blood. I closed my eyes and attempted to clear my thoughts. Tears sprang into my eyes with the effort, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough.

“Wesley!” Carson’s voice broke the spell, echoing through the house as the front door slammed closed.

The vampire turned his head and I reached inside my pocket for my butterfly knife. I yanked it out and fluttered the blade in my hand, changing it from benign to dangerous in a singular movement. My heart throbbed painfully as I strategized. Carson was between the door and me. I had to get past him.

“I’m calling dibs on…” Carson stopped mid-sentence, eyes narrowing as he walked into the room and saw the knife.

What a fucking sleaze bucket. He was in on this shit too.

“I was just leaving.” My voice came out shaky. I looked up and locked eyes with Wesley.

His irises were amber.

Radiant, beautiful amber.

He rolled me under, promising exactly what he would do, showing me just how much I’d enjoy it. His hands were cool, brushing across my body in sensual, teasing movements. His tongue delved into my ear, his breath brisk against my skin, fingers tracing the counters of my bra as his thumbs thrummed my nipples. His mouth found mine as he ripped at my clothing…and I wanted him to. I wanted to feel every inch of him against me, along me, inside me.

I loosened the grip on the knife and it slid past my fingers until I held the blade. The sharp bite of metal into my skin cleared my head, and I squeezed, absorbing the steel deeper into my flesh. Warm blood coated the spaces between my fingers, dripping in big fat drops to the floor.

I wanted to run, but I couldn’t. My head was clear of him, but my traitorous body wouldn’t listen. I struggled to tell my feet to obey, to take one step, then another.

“This one will require a special session.” Wesley smiled, elongated canines prominent. “Do we have any chloroform left?”

“I’m one step ahead of you.”

A cloth was placed over my mouth, and though I wanted to struggle, I remained passive. The room shifted, becoming fuzzy as my breathing slowed.

Wesley pulled Amanda into his arms. His hands traveled along her body while the other three caressed him, their hands grasping and squeezing, moving lower… Then everything vanished into nothing.