Don't Blackmail the Vampire (8 page)

Cole had seemed equally clueless. Although even now, his eyes alternatively seemed to lock on Kristen for a hair too long, or avoid her completely.

“I’ll take the salmon special,” Charles told the waitress.

Keeping his distance from Rachel had proven more difficult than he’d imagined. After a couple of runs, she’d been limping slightly. Obviously she was trying to cover up the pain from her sore ankle, but he saw through her, even if no one else was able to. But he couldn’t help her without screwing everything up.

Worse, all day long on the slopes, Rachel had acted the part of a lovesick woman. She had made an effort to be near him. To talk to him. To ride the lifts with him. To sit next to him at lunch. And he’d had to make an effort to stay away. It was more than awkward. Even knowing her reaction wasn’t real, seeing the flash of disappointment in her eyes every time he blew her off was painful.

Hell, there had been a couple of times that her reaction had felt real. As if she also felt the pain of his forced reactions. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done about it right now. They were too close to success.

And they had to get this done tonight, because Noah was getting restless.

Charles studied the man sitting on the other side of Rachel’s sister. Nary a hair was out of place on Brent’s head, and as he had most of the day, he seemed rather amused. Now was as good a time as any. With a pointed toe, Charles nudged Rachel under the table.

She shot him a glare and he gave her his best innocent expression, before sliding his gaze purposefully to her sister. Understanding dawned, and she turned to Kristen. “What do you say to some sister time tonight? We could watch a movie or something.” Her voice was thready and a little high. She sounded like a woman trying very hard to sound nonchalant and failing.

Kristen hesitated, but only for a moment. “That sounds great.” Another chilling glance at Charles. “Why don’t we go to the spa first? They offer massages until nine.”

She gave her a halfhearted smile. “That sounds great. Thanks.”

Kristen took her hand in her own and squeezed it. “Sure.”

“Well,” Charles said, filling his voice with as much false bravado as he could muster, “since the girls are off to the spa, what do you boys say to getting a few drinks? I know a great place.” He shot Brent an arrogant smile.

The man immediately reacted—a grin split his face, but his voice was casual. “Might as well.”

Keep trying to play it cool, Brent. With any luck, this will all be over tonight.

Brent proved not only happy to find the “local establishment” was a gentleman’s club, but ecstatic. And Charles had to grudgingly admit to himself that this was a good plan, even if he’d rather be getting his fangs pulled than hang out with Brent in a club full of scantily clad women.

He could press Brent for information about Alice—and maybe figure out if he was making the threats—and help out Rachel. Cole had begged off, saying he had to get some file off before the night was through. Charles suspected that, in reality, Cole’s tastes were quite different from his best friend’s. Then again, might be that he was reading too much into the man. Assigning him positive character traits Brent’s minion didn’t actually possess. His refusal wasn’t suspicious, but Charles made a mental note to search his room at the first opportunity.

But there was no danger of reading too much into Brent. The second they stepped through the door into the upscale club, he was slapping Charles’s back and smiling and chatting in a way he hadn’t done since they’d arrived in the quaint little overpriced ski town. When he could drag his eyes away from the women, that was.

In the midst of the lounge, surrounded by scents both floral and candy-sweet, Brent opened up. Just as Charles had hoped.

“I tell you what, Charles. Watching a woman plan a wedding is ridiculous.” He waved for another bourbon from the cocktail waitress, eyes locked on a dancer on the stage, even as he spoke to Charles. “I get it. Not like I want some shabby affair. But ever since we went to that cruise ship wedding of my brother’s, her focus has been insane. I mean, come on. What’s the damn rush?”

“It’s not as if a man wants to say those vows any sooner than he has to,” Charles offered, handing the waitress another bill for their drinks. If getting Brent drunk was what he needed to do to get him to hurry up and step out of line already, then that’s what he’d do. Besides, if he plied Brent with enough alcohol, maybe he’d say something about threatening Alice, then fall into some woman’s arms. Wouldn’t that be convenient? Two birds, one stone. And his mission here would be done. He could head home, secure in the knowledge that he’d helped Rachel and helped to ensure Alice’s safety. He’d be a damn hero, twice over.

And he’d no longer have an excuse to spend time with Rachel.

Something twisted in his stomach, and he shook off the thought.

“Exactly!” Brent said. “You know what I mean.” His voice lowered, and his gaze finally locked on Charles for half a second. “Didn’t look like you were eager to tie yourself down today, either.”

Charles snorted, as if the idea of tying himself down was ridiculous. Not that it was a possibility, but the idea of it was oddly less amusing than it had been only a few short days ago. “I’m not keen to settle down anytime soon. Nothing wrong with Rachel. Not saying I won’t go there again, but not if I can find something…fresher in the meantime.” It actually pained him to say that. The realization was sobering.

Brent guffawed and Charles did his best not to cringe. “She’s such a little mouse. But I guess she’s probably a firecracker in the sack. She’s got that pissy attitude—full of fight.” He shook his head. “Whatever floats your boat, my man.” His gaze shifted back to the women around them. “Too bad there aren’t any topless joints around here. This is just a tease fest.” He downed the rest of his drink, spilling a dribble down his chin.

Counting to three in his head and forcing what he hoped looked like a grin instead of a grimace onto his face, Charles reminded himself that hitting Brent would screw everything up. Not just for him, but for Rachel, too.

Brent continued to eye the dancers appreciatively, even leaning far too close to a waitress when she brought him another in a long line of bourbons, but he never moved in for a phone number or a close whisper.

“You almost got married before, right?” Charles didn’t miss the sharp glance Brent shot his direction at the question, but he pushed anyway. “Rachel mentioned it.”

“That girl doesn’t care for me. Kind of a busybody, if you ask me. But I guess you can’t always pick your in-laws.”

Evasive. Charles tried again. “Came to your senses before you got stuck, huh?”

“You know it!” A jovial grin that didn’t reach his eyes overtook Brent’s mouth, and he downed the rest of his drink, obviously relieved that he didn’t seem to know the whole story. He leaned toward Charles over the table, gesturing for him to move closer. “Look, I know that this is a fun trip between friends and all, but I thought we could talk about that job a little, now that there aren’t so many prying eyes around to hear us.”

Charles wasn’t sure which was worse, the fact that Brent thought eyes could hear or the man’s whiskey-laden breath, but he kept his face impassive. “Sure, man. I don’t want to go into too many details right now—way to ruin a party, right?—but let’s just say I got your back.” He shot Brent a wink and the man slapped his thigh.

“Fucking-A! That’s what I’m talking about. Now we can celebrate.” He stood and motioned for the waitress before half falling back into his chair. “Not that I need the job—I got money and a fucking degree from Harvard. But it’d be nice to work for a non-jackass for once. Some people just get under your skin, know what I mean?”

Charles knew
exactly
what he meant.

Chapter Six

W
hat a waste of a night.

Charles stomped his wet boots on the hotel’s carpet one last time and then headed for Rachel’s room. It was close to two o’clock in the morning, but he had no doubt that she’d be waiting up for him. Not only was she going to be disappointed, Charles hadn’t been able to push Brent for anything about Alice, either. No matter how cleverly he’d pressed, Brent had evaded his questions. Even drunk, he’d been crafty. And one more question would have pushed him into angry territory—or worse, made him suspicious.

Not only had Brent not made a move on anyone, but he’d gotten so drunk that Charles was forced to half carry him back to his room, where a sleepy-yet-still-angry Kristen had taken over his care.

The desire to use his powers on Brent had been almost overwhelming. To make him kiss a waitress or confess about Alice, Charles wasn’t sure. Even worse, he’d considered using a bit of energy on a woman at the club to push her to make a move on Brent. How low would that have been? Not that he hadn’t used his powers in less-than-squeaky-clean ways before, but that felt like a line. One he wasn’t sure he wanted to cross, even for the intriguing Rachel. Moreover, he wasn’t sure it was a line she’d thank him for crossing.

The door flew open when he was mid-knock.

Worry pinched her expression and she glanced down the hallway before pulling him into her room.

“Always dragging me around.”

“What happened?” she hissed, as if they might be overheard even with the hallway clear and the door closed tight behind them.

“Nothing happened, hence me
not
calling you.”

She sniffed, then, leaning close with her hands on her hips, she sniffed him. “You smell like glitter.”

“Glitter doesn’t have a scent—not one that your weak human nose can detect, anyway. And it wasn’t that kind of place.”

“Yeah,” she scoffed, “I’m sure it was a conservative strip club.”

“Gentleman’s club,” he corrected her, not sure why he was bothering. Who cared if she thought he was covered in naked lap dancers all night?

He did. Fuck.

“Whatever.” She waved a hand at him, as if she couldn’t care less. But the emotion beneath her words was obvious. Pain. He’d be damned if she didn’t care, too.

With reflexes only a vampire could boast, he caught her waving hand and pulled it into both of his. “I assure you they were scantily clad—not nude. This town is way too high-class and far too small for anything else.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “How scantily clad?”

“Practically church clothes,” he lied, smiling.

A quick laugh, before she seemed to recall she was angry with him and halted it. “So, no luck with Brent?”

Idly, he caressed her still-captured hand with his thumb. “Sadly, no. The man was intent on talking business, getting drunk, and staring at the non-strippers. Although his priorities were not necessarily in that order.”

“This blackmailing you thing totally isn’t turning out as well as I’d hoped.” A small frown crept over her amused expression, and she tugged her hand from his grasp and stepped back. “Thanks for trying. I appreciate your help. It’s…nice not to feel totally alone in this.”

He’d be damned if her disappointment didn’t tear at him. “We can try again.” He cursed himself even as the hope that blossomed in her expression filled him with a flash of satisfaction.

“Thank you!” She threw herself at him, hugging him in a tight embrace.

His arms went around her as if of their own volition, and the sweet, flowery smell of her shampoo filled his lungs. His cock jumped to attention, and he gave in to the urge to tighten his hold. Damn, she felt good in his arms. “Of course. When you blackmail this vampire, you only get first-class service.”

She clung to him for half a second with her warm human body before she seemed to realize what she was doing, and then her grip loosened.

His didn’t.

This was all sorts of wrong. He couldn’t offer her anything real. He was lying to her about why he was here—at least by omission. And his focus should only be on establishing if Brent was responsible for the threat against his brother’s soon-to-be mate. Family loyalty deserved nothing less. But he couldn’t seem to let her go.

“Charles?” she murmured.

“I’m sorry about today.” His grip relaxed enough for her to move back, still in his arms, to look up at him.

Brows pinched in confusion over her bright hazel eyes, she said, “We’ll get him. It might take another try, but—”

“That’s not what I’m sorry about.” Without giving her a chance to pull away, he kissed her. Soft lips met his, and for half a second he thought she might not respond to him, but then she melted. He poured every bit of the emotion that he’d struggled against all day into her, her mouth. The pricks of pain that had hit him each moment he’d had to be cold to her. The anger at Brent’s satisfied smirk each time she’d pretended to be hurt. The need he’d felt all day long to take her in his arms in front of everyone—damn the consequences—and show them all that she was
his
.

He ruthlessly shoved away that thought. She wasn’t his, not permanently. But he’d be damned if she wasn’t going to be his for tonight.

With a moan, her mouth opened and he swept inside. Her tongue sparred with his, returning every thrust. Even now, she wouldn’t acquiesce quietly. Then she nipped his lower lip.

With a growl, he pulled her closer, and her soft body immediately made his achingly hard. Blood pounded to his cock and he needed to see every inch of her. To explore her. To make her his own—if only for the night.

As suddenly as the kiss started, it ended. She pulled back. With a will he hadn’t realized he possessed, he didn’t follow her mouth with his own.

Her hazel eyes shimmered in the low lighting, and she examined him like she was seeking something very specific. Her gaze locked on him, unwavering, delving deep below the surface.

What would she see?
A man who was only reliable when you wanted a good time? His gaze shifted to the sliver of night that peeked between a crack in her curtains.

“Charles. Look at me.”

He could no more ignore her request than ignore the smell of her, the sweet taste of her on his tongue. When he dragged his gaze back to her, she smiled, and the space around them opened up.

“What are we doing?” she asked.

“We’re doing what we want. As grown adults, we’re deciding to live in the moment,” he said. “It’s probably a terrible idea.”

Traitor,
his body cried. And every inch of him demanded he shut the hell up and take everything she offered. But with all the self-control he could muster, he forced himself to remain still. To resist pulling her close and kissing that thoughtful look off her face, replacing it with one that only wanted.

“Yeah,” she said, voice soft. Her gaze dropped to his chest and her expression twisted subtly. The slightest suggestion of pain.

She thought he was rejecting her.

Pressure built where her gaze rested. The force of it threatened to suffocate him, even worse than when she’d pretended to be hurt for their audience earlier. He couldn’t let her think this was a rejection. Their time together might be limited, but he would never allow her to take the blame for that. To feel like she wasn’t enough. Because that would be a lie, and for some reason, he couldn’t seem to lie to her.

“I want to be with you so badly it hurts,” he said.

Wide eyes met his. And one simple word from her kiss-swollen lips tore away the last bit of his will to resist her. “Okay.”

…

“But this is just for tonight,” Rachel added quickly, unnecessarily. Of course it would be only for one night. She might be more attracted to him than any man she’d ever met before, but she wasn’t foolish enough to think that they were going to continue seeing each other after their little adventure.

“I’m not exactly the settling-down type.” He grinned, and her pulse rate jumped up a notch.

“Me either,” she said. The moment he was all-in clicked behind his eyes. And somehow she knew that from that moment forward, he wouldn’t hesitate. If anyone was going to put a stop to this, it was going to have to be her. But looking into his blue eyes—how had she ever thought them icy cold?—she realized that she didn’t want to stop. There wasn’t even a tiny voice in her head insisting that this was a bad idea, reminding her she didn’t trust people easily for good reason. How insane was that?

Charles was the first man she’d trusted, even a little bit, in a very long time. And she hadn’t even known him a week. Not to mention the fact that he wasn’t exactly a man, either—at least not a normal one. Leaps of faith weren’t something she was normally comfortable with, but when he slowly closed in on her, his eyes full of an intensity that, in equal parts, scared her and made her body tighten with need, she leaped.

Mouth featherlight, he kissed her lips, her throat, across her collarbone. Her breath caught when he hit a particularly sensitive spot below her neck, and she ran her hands through his hair and then tugged his mouth back to hers. With every bit of passion she’d tried to stifle since they’d met, she kissed him. Licking his tongue, pressing her body against his, nipping when he tried to pull away from her. Sucking on his lower lip. Running the tip of her tongue across the bottom of his teeth.

A growl escaped him and he slid one hand down to her butt, gripping her and pulling her up roughly against his body. His erection pressed against her mound, and she gasped at the sudden sensation. Somehow the fact that he was rock-hard and ready for her made her want him even more.

Her legs went around his waist, almost of their own volition. Desperate to relieve the pressure between her legs, she arched into him, reveling in his hardness. She’d done that to him. Plain little Rachel.

“Damn.” His voice was heavy with need, and knowing she affected him so much made her wild.

Tugging at his shirt, she let out a small noise of protest when he set her down. His mouth closed back on hers, and he slid his hand up inside her shirt to massage her breast over her bra. His touch was just a little rough, and when a haggard breath escaped him, it hit her that she wasn’t the only one losing control.

When had she come to trust him enough for this? Was it when he’d carried her down the mountain? The moment he’d promised—really promised—to help her with her sister? Perhaps it was earlier still, when she’d discovered a paranormal creature—one so obviously stronger and faster than her—and he had chosen not to rip out her throat.

And he could have. Their blackmail was nothing more than a ruse—she could admit that to herself now. He’d played along. Maybe because it had been convenient for him at the time, but that didn’t mean it was something he’d had to go along with.

He was a good man, vampire or no. That’s why he hadn’t hurt her. Why he helped her. Why she wanted, so badly, for him to be with her now.

“I need you,” she murmured, and she slipped her hand down to grip him over his pants.

A groan ripped from his lips and he pressed forward into her palm, using her to alleviate the pressure he so obviously felt. Aching need coiled tightly in her core. She wanted him inside her so badly it was almost painful.

Through it all, Charles was strangely silent, and it unnerved her. He pushed her back a step and began to slowly undress her. Her shirt first. Then he helped her step out of her flannel pants. When she stood only in her bra and—thank goodness, matching—underwear, he stepped back and took her in, his expression unreadable.

“You’re being too quiet,” she said, covering her bra with her arms.

“You’re beautiful,” he countered.

Her heart fluttered in her chest. “Good answer.”

A familiar grin broke out on his face and relief washed over her.

“I just—” He shook his head, as if unable find the words.

“You’re just wearing too many clothes. Or I’m wearing too little.”

“Definitely not the latter.” He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a frame that made her mouth immediately dry.

She’d known that a lean, muscled chest had been beneath his ski coat, but she hadn’t fully appreciated how sexy he would be. Even slightly pale—as she imagined most vampires must be—he was a vision. Rock-hard and all man. Not too muscular, just perfect.

“Speaking of beautiful—”

“I’m ruggedly handsome, and I’ll thank you not to forget it.”

She laughed, and he pounced.

There was no other word for it. Suddenly he was there, mouth trailing down her throat to nip at her collarbone. One of his hands caressed her butt while the other teased her stomach. He pulled the cup of her bra down below her breast, revealing her to him. Without another word, he moved his mouth down and pulled her nipple into his mouth.

She cried out and gripped his hair hard enough that it had to hurt, but he didn’t seem to feel it. With just enough pressure to make the divide between pleasure and pain blur, he sucked and nipped and pulled at her, before soothing the sensations with a quick lick. Pleasure and need arced from her breast to settle between her legs.

No matter how she tried, she couldn’t seem to reach enough of him. Touch enough of his skin. And tugging at his hair did nothing but elicit another growl. Her bra snapped, and he moved to her other breast.

Wetness gathered between her legs, and she was so tightly wound she ached. The pressure was unbearable. Getting worse by the second.

“Charles—I need…” She couldn’t voice it, but he understood.

He stepped back, leaving her cold. But in what felt like moments he was back, the rest of his clothing gone. His cock hung heavy and hard between them. Unable to resist, she took hold of him. Pumping slowly. His quick movements stopped and he went so still that she hesitated in her movements.

“Fuck, Rachel. Like that, just like that.” His expression was harsh, like it was taking every bit of his self-control to be still.

The power went right to her head.

“Like this?” she murmured, raising an eyebrow at him. She gripped him harder, pumping him faster. He was so thick and hard that her mouth watered. With her other hand, she tweaked his nipple. Then she followed with her mouth. Licking his chest and kissing her way up to his neck. Back down. All the time pumping him slowly, languidly.