Drawing Deep (23 page)

She felt a touch on her face before the silence registered. “Don’t touch me!” It was a feral snarl.

“Baby. God. Where are you hurt?” Santos asked in raspy urgency.

“Her shoulder’s out of joint.” Rome said. “You’ve got to put it back.”

Whimpering in pain so keen she felt sick, Ria managed to look up at Santos, and saw her agony mirrored in his eyes. “Kitten.”

She gritted her teeth. “Do it.”

His jaw set, his eyes flashing with glowing anger. Then she felt a sharp jerk, a grind of bone and pain unlike she’d ever felt before. His roar of fury echoed her scream as he wrenched her shoulder back in place.

When she caught her breath, it was to feel his bare chest under her head, the heat of his body seeping in to combat the cold. When the pain receded to bearable levels, she flicked her gaze down his torso. “You’re naked.”

A soft rumble under her ear. “So I am.” He stroked his hand over her hair and down along her back, a repetitious petting that lulled her senses.

She drew in a heavy sigh and lay still, closing her eyes, savoring and healing. “Lance and Gwen?”

“They’re safe.” Rome’s eyes snapped with fury. “Figured out the water was drugged. Lance was drinking his damn coke, which made it possible for him to distract the asshole at the entrance so I could take him out. I left him to take Gwen out of the pit and call Dad.”

“Sarah did it.” Ria murmured. “The blonde told me. She probably also took the coin from my room. She was definitely the one who called Brett about my solo trip to the airport.”

“I’ll kill her,” Santos promised viciously before placing a kiss on her head.

“Speaking of the blonde, what the hell happened to him?” Porter’s voice was a mix of bewilderment and exasperation. “He was right here a second ago.”

Ria’s eyes shot open in time to see a naked Rome twirl and let out a furious snarl that made her flinch. “What the fuck does it take to kill a fucking vampire?”

“Watch it, asshole.” Santos’s fingers tightened protectively on her head.

Rome pivoted, zeroed in on Ria. “Not you obviously. I’m going to see if I can find him. Rip his throat out once and for all.”

Between one step and the next, Rome shifted into a midnight black jaguar and bounded out of the cave. She didn’t know if she was more surprised at everyone’s nudity or the gorgeous color of Rome’s fur that was so different from Santos’s. “He’s black.”

“Yeah. Gave the bastard an advantage when we were kids.” She felt Santos smile against her hair. “But payback’s a bitch. Now he’s the smallest of us all. Not by much, but enough to rub it in his face. Constantly.”

Brothers were so odd.

“You’re a vamp?” Porter wanted to know, drawing her gaze.

“Half.” She straightened, Santos adjusting his arm to curve around her back, keeping her close to his side. It was then she realized she was sitting in his lap while his bare ass was directly on the ground. “And you’re naked as well.” She told Porter, thinking she should avert her eyes, but really, why deprive herself of the view? While she could appreciate how finally proportioned and beautifully muscled Porter was, Ria didn’t have the desire to lick every inch of his flesh. In fact, she had no naughty thoughts about the youngest Felix brother in the least.

Porter grinned, put his hands on his hips with no regard for his nudity. “That’s what happens when we shift. We lose our clothes. Much better than being a jaguar stuck in a pair of jeans, don’t you think?”

“Porter.” Santos grumbled at him, covering Ria’s eyes with his hand. “Either shift or find some clothes before I hurt you.”

“Ria doesn’t mind, do you?” Porter might have snickered, but she heard the sound of a zipper a few seconds later, the soft rustle of clothes.

“Honey, you can stand naked in Times Square if that’s want you want. But I think I’d like to call it a day.” Ria tugged at Santos’s hand, glared up at him. “You, on the other hand, better cover up. I don’t want Gwen seeing you naked.”

“Possessive much?” Santos kissed her forehead. “I like it.” A raspy caress that made her nether regions tingle. If she was getting needy for his intimate touch, then she must be feeling better.

“Idiot. Let me up.” Rising cautiously to her feet, she looked about, skipping over the shadowed sight of two prone bodies and landing on the dim form of the ranger. “Is James all right?”

“He’ll be fine.” Dressed now – did they always carry extra clothes? – Porter walked to a backpack and tossed it to Santos. “I’ll take him out, leave the other three for the cops.”

Ria swallowed, looked up at the ceiling, and then slanted her eyes to Santos as he dug into the pack. She knew the third Porter referred to was back at the entrance. “Are they dead?”

“Yes.” Santos slid his legs into pants, buttoned up, his intense gaze never leaving hers. “No one messes with what’s ours.”

And after last night, Ria knew that included her. Because she was Santos’s mate. His woman. His to protect. She raised a hand over the mark on her neck he had made only last night, somehow content despite all that just happened. Silent, she watched Santos pulled on a t-shirt and stuff his feet in a pair of soft sneakers, all the while an inner voice was demanding the answer to a question she didn’t have the courage to ask out loud.

And his to love?

Another hard gulp. “I’m ready to leave.”

Without warning, Santos picked her up in a hard embrace, and gasping, she reflexively threw her arms around his neck. “What are you doing?’

“Carrying you.” Santos retorted. “You’re hurt.”

Her shoulder did twinge, but it was more from the sudden movement than any lingering effects. “It’s my shoulder, not my legs.”

“I like having you in my arms.” He bussed her temple. “Don’t argue.”

She bit her lip against the argument rising in her chest, because frankly, she more than liked having his arms around her. She loved it.

Porter moved to pick James up in a fireman’s hold. “We’ll come back for everything else.” He shifted his weight. “Damn. I hope I don’t have to carry his ass all the way back to the house.”

With her lips curving, Ria let go of her fierce independence and allowed the big, strong alpha male strut his stuff; holding her, protecting her, and carrying her through the long tunnel as if she weighed no more than a feather. Every now and then he would rub his chin on her head, as if reassuring himself she was still there. Secretly delighted, she tightened her hold and rested trustingly against him, breathing in his musky scent that never failed to bewitch her.

Lost in their own little world, they both ignored Porter’s grumbling to hurry the hell up.

* * * *

“I’m so sorry, Ria.” Melinda approached the dinner table just as everyone was gathering for the evening meal, later than usual thanks to the attack, dead bodies, and cops. Thankfully no one who drank the tainted water suffered any lingering affects. The only dark cloud now hanging over the group was the escape of the blonde vampire.

“With all the commotion I forgot about this.”

Puzzled, Ria took the envelope from Melinda’s hand. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. A man brought it by earlier today.”

Ria dropped the envelope as if burned. Slowly, she turned it over with the tip of one finger to see her name written on it in precise, neat letters.

He’d found her.

“What is it?” Santos reached for the envelope and opened it before she could fathom anything beyond a single and silent curse. One that Santos muttered out loud. “It’s from your father.”

“I take it that’s not a good thing,” Melinda murmured.

“No.” Santos slanted Ria a look. “Coincidence?”

Ria shook her head. “No. I was warned by a friend in New Mexico that he’d been looking for me.”

“Does this need to be taken care of?” Andreas leveled flat eyes on Ria. “Is he a threat to you?”

She shuddered. While all the shifter males at this table were tough and strong, alphas that were more than capable of taking on and running their own pack, they willingly chose to stay with and heed their father. Ria knew if Andreas wanted her gone, she’d be gone. Oh, sure, Santos would leave with her, and it would probably rip something from him that could never be replaced, but as her mate, he wouldn’t have much of a choice.

That Andreas wanted to know if her father was a threat to
her
, not
them
, was a distinctive and deliberate appraisal of her worth. Whoever was a threat to her was in danger of being crushed.

She fidgeted in her chair. “I’m not sure.”

“There’s a number here. He wants you to call him.”

She might be sick. “I don’t think I can.”

“Then I’ll call him.” Santos growled, reaching for his cell phone with fiery resolve.

“Wait.” Ria laid her hand on his wrist, stalling him. “Just.” God her chest hurt so bad she rubbed a hand over it. “Okay. Find out what he wants.”

What Arlon Mounte wanted was to meet with his daughter. As Ria absolutely refused to have the man on the Felix property, Andreas contacted a friend who owned the bar Lance, Chris, and Robby had gone to Saturday night. Ziggy Dockers had agreed to the use of his bar late the following morning.

Neutral territory.

The hardest part had come when Melinda had laid a hand on hers with a soft, “You don’t have to say a word, honey, but I want you to know Annie and Bob know everything there is to know about us.” Then she’d smiled at Lance. “As does Lance, as Gwen told me she told you.”

Before Ria could stop herself, she had spilled everything, keeping a tight grip on the bolstering hand Santos had on her own. A purging of her soul that, once released, left her exhausted, liberated and surprisingly cleansed, as if she’d been drowning in a dark, vast ocean for years and finally, after an intense struggle for survival, broke through the surface to gulp down fresh air.

Guilt, condemnation, bitterness, and fear all melted away as she told her story. No a single individual had an incriminating remark. They didn’t care what she was or where she came from, they were only concerned at who she was now. Santos’s mate.

When she’d dared to peek at Lance around Santos’s body, her co-worker had only lifted a brow. “Guess I better come clean as well. Remember the hunt in New Zealand?”

Leery, Ria had slowly nodded. “Yes.”

“How we had some trouble with stolen relics and then that rainstorm came and made us all scramble for cover?”

Another careful nod. “Yes.”

“I never told you, but I dropped your container and all your stuff fell out.” Lance shrugged. “I saw the false bottom and peeked inside.”

Ria’s chin had dropped. “You thought I was stealing?”

Lance had only looked at her with calm hazel eyes. “We’d never had anything stolen before and you only recently joined the team. It was a reasonable suspicion. Imagine my surprise, and relief by the way, to see those bags of blood.”

Offended, Ria had sat poker straight, only to bolt forward again and gape. “Wait. You’ve known for nearly three years and never said a word?”

Another shrug. “Why should I? It was your secret, and if you wanted anyone to know, you’d tell them.”

Undone, Ria had sagged in her chair, awash in a relief so profound it had stayed with her, until she’d gone to her room alone that night, telling an extremely displeased Santos that she needed time alone. To think.

A decision she regretted more than once during the endlessly long and lonely hours that followed. She grew tenser as dawn approached and, giving up any hope of sleep, rose from the bed, collected her shower supplies, a change of clothes, and headed to the bathroom.

If she wasn’t going to be able to sleep – partially her own fault she knew – she might as well do something productive.

Shedding her sleep clothes, she stepped under the hot spray of the shower and stood there, letting the water stream over her head and shoulders. Not that it did anything to soothe more than a few surface muscles, and did nothing to ease the tight feel of her skin, the itch between her thighs. The empty ache that left her needy and unfulfilled.

The mating heat in full bloom. She let out a moan as rivulets of water coursed down her body and over the swollen nub of her clit. Just that whisper of sensation was enough to make her pine for a stronger touch.

Giving into the throbbing need that scorched her from the inside out, she reached down between her legs, and yelped as if scalded when she lifted eyes to the large shadowy figure on the other side of the opaque glass door.

“Let me in, kitten.”

Hand on her chest, she sputtered, “God, Santos. You scared the hell out of me.”

“I heard you moving about. You okay?”

She knuckled water from her eyes. “You heard me?’

“Since you wouldn’t let me stay with you, I slept in the next room. Or didn’t sleep I should say, as you weren’t by my side.” A reprimand overlaid with the molten velvet of his voice. It made her shiver. Then the shadow moved and his hand pressed against the glass. “Open the door.”

And let him in. Blood raced through her veins. “I’m taking a shower.”

A pause, followed by a low hiss of sound. “I know.”

The low, gritty volley of his words, the shear torment in them, had her thighs clenching in anticipation. Her hand was shaking when she twisted open the lock, then stepped back from the dark savagery that tightened his expression, exacerbated by the rough stubble of his beard. He was naked, his hair loose and flowing around his shoulders. Tough, ropey muscles covered his chest, flexed along his tight abdomen. The sight of his engorged cock jutting from the hair at his groin made her fingers curl, her body quake with feminine need.

“Never again, mate.” His voice was rough, grating as he stalked forward, herding her until the smooth, cool marble touched her back. “Don’t ever shut me out again.”

Not giving her a chance to speak, he slanted his mouth over hers, stealing her breath. Her breasts flattened against his hard chest while the press of his erection against her belly had her hips tilting instinctively to meet his.

The kiss was incredibly hot. His tongue swept past her lips to sink inside and whip hers with the taste of him. A taste of pure, summer heat that clamored through her system. Desire burned through her, sizzling across her flesh, making her hungry for more.

Twining her arms around his neck, she kissed him back, meeting his passion with her own. Her bones simply vanished as she plastered herself to him, flesh melting into flesh.

One hand cupped her breast, the strong, calloused palm of a rugged male making her knees want to tremble. Her nipples were brutally hard, so that when he flicked his thumb over the tips, the pleasure that ripped through her bordered on pain. Then he rolled the hard nub between his fingers and she gasped, arching her back, pushing her breasts forward and high.