Drawing Deep (8 page)

“Am I boring you?”

Santos opened his eyes, having no idea when he’d closed them. Probably when the truth, and not the possibilities or the potentials, had hit him in the gut like the sledgehammer he once threatened to take to Porter. There was no longer any doubt in his mind. Ria was his mate.

Mates weren’t a one-time-only shot. There were actually hundreds of potential mates for a shifter. Women who had compatible genes, ensuring that any male offspring could take on their paternal animal form at puberty. Daughters of a mated couple didn’t have the same ability, the belief that the change was too violent on the body and thus destroy any child the woman would carry.

A true mate, however, was one that not only had the right DNA, she intrigued the cat, and the man, on multiple levels. It wasn’t much different than human pairings. Physical, mental and emotional draws, intimacy and companionship both in bed and out. Bonds that only strengthened with time, affection and a deep sense of knowing each other, inside and out.

Santos felt slightly giddy, a wide grin creasing his face at the knowledge that the woman standing before him with the indigent expression of a ticked off female, was his. Not that he could pounce and claim her this very instant as he craved. No, he needed to put a plan into action. One that wouldn’t alarm her, and wouldn’t make him go near insane with need. Because despite her little show of temper, he couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t rabbit.

“Of course you’re not boring me. I was just thinking about pirates.”

“Pirates?” She shook her head as if his statement came out of the blue.

“Hmm. Claude Morgan was, by all accounts, a very successful pirate. Who, if the stories are to be believed, mysteriously vanished only to reappear in Florida several years later as Cort Fylin, a wealthy Frenchman. Cort built the house and created a thriving pepper plantation along with his young Calusa bride.”

A slow sweep of lashes that fleetingly hid stunning eyes the color of turbulent clouds. “Your ancestor.”

It wasn’t a question. “Yes. Could the ruin be part of a Calusa village? A structure that Claude-Colin emulated when he built the house?”

Ria was shaking her head before Santos finished. “No. Their territory was much farther south. Sarasota, Fort Myers. Basically the south central and western parts of Florida. Besides, I doubt the Calusa would leave stone carvings depicting Mayan art and Egyptian mythology.”

Stymied, Santos shifted his legs apart and crossed his arms over his chest. Her eyes dropped to follow the move, resting a long moment on the hand he had over his bicep. He couldn’t help it. He flexed that muscle. Her quick inhalation and the subsequent wave of feminine arousal had him biting the inside of his cheek, steeling his feet against the earth. Now that he’d uncovered the richness of her true scent, could pinpoint it from a thousand others with ease, along with the knowledge that she was sunk along with him deep in the pull of the mating heat, resisting her would become near impossible. “That’s random.”

Her gaze jumped back to his. “What? Oh. I didn’t tell you about the stones we uncovered.” Before he could open his mouth, she waved a hand in the air in front of her like she was erasing a chalkboard. “Not those. There’s a three feet by eight feet section of the ruin made of whitish stones. Like ash. They varying in size and shape and some even contain etchings similar to Mayan and Egyptian artwork. Tomorrow we’ll finish clearing off what we can with the tools you loaned us, but until I get mine back for the fine detail work, I’m at an impasse. That’s why I decided to come here.”

“Here?” Santos stared down at the chunk of rock in her hand. “To look at the stones?”

“Partially.” She set it down at the edge of the pile. “I was actually looking for bones.”

Bones?
An internal question he put into verbalization. “Bones?”

A lift of her shoulders. “The section of etched stones might be an altar of some kind.”

He considered her softly spoken words. “A sacrificial altar?”

“It’s possible. I though maybe when the old house that sat on top of the ruin came down, it covered up some, er, remains, and that it was all scooped up when you removed the debris.”

She looked adorably uncomfortable. Ernest, a little hopeful, but with the way she bit her bottom lip, not terribly confident. “I’m sorry,
conejita
,” the word came out as an endearment, making him suddenly view her not as a frightened rabbit, but of a baby bunny he wanted to hold and protect, rub his face in her soft fur. “I don’t recall seeing any bones.”

“Oh.” She rubbed the tip of her nose with her sleeve. “It was just one of many theories.” A slight shiver as she folded her arms tight around her middle, making Santos realize she was probably cold. The winter temps in Florida could easily reach in the mid to high seventies, the nights a mere ten-to-fifteen degrees cooler, but with the humidity and breezes from the water that surrounded the estate on two sides, sixty might seem a lot colder for someone from the arid New Mexico desert.

With deceptively casual steps, he prowled over to stand in front of her, exorbitantly pleased when she didn’t move away. Lifting a single finger, he traced the curve of her cheek. Another shiver, which had nothing to do with the cold, not when her pupils contracted, her lips falling slightly apart to draw in air. Another lush wave of a woman’s need. “You’re freezing. Why don’t you come inside? I can make you some hot tea.”

Wide eyes stared up at him, reflecting her surprise at the sexual heat flaring to life at his touch. Light as a whisper, he moved his finger down to outline her bottom lip, heard her heart’s frantic beat. He knew she was seriously considering his invitation, weighed it against the sensual desire that sparked between them. Santos held his breath, waiting for her answer. And an answer came, not from her lips, but from the old-fashioned ring of her cell phone.

Startled as if caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar, Ria jumped, breaking the physical connection. It took her a moment to undo a glove before she pulled the device from her coat pocket. A long-suffering sigh before she answered. “Yes, Chris?”

Santos gritted his teeth, unabashedly listening as her boss made a thinly-veiled request to meet him and the rest of their group in his suit to review the newly completed digital display Robby had created.

This moment of sensual play might have been snatched from his hands, but Santos would make sure others would be in no short supply.

Ria was going to strangle Chris. No ifs, ands or buts about it. He’d told her he’d give her a week to find something worth his time, and a mere day and a half later, he was pacing the ground over her head, speaking in excited tones with his assistant, Teri, about a mythical giant crystal spider in a cave whose location could only be found by the shadow it produced when the waters in that cave froze solid.

More myths and more legends. One thing she knew at this moment was that hell would freeze over before she went to Alaska. She might be half vampire, but she didn’t run from the sun. Even without adequate blood supply, vampires didn’t go “poof” if they walked under the shining rays of daylight, though their skin would start to burn. First pink, then red, than the crimson of a horrible sunburn. When it turned black, the skin would start to peel, the organs roast, and then finally, blissfully, death. The whole episode might take several hours. But when well hydrated with the life-giving liquid, a vampire could hang out at the the beach all day long, and with proper sunscreen, come away with a nice tan.

Since she wasn’t full-blooded, Ria couldn’t bench press a car, move faster than the eye could see or have a set of fangs that terrorized the populace if she smiled at the wrong time. She was, however, stronger than most humans, could run a two-minute mile without breaking a sweat, and had, what her father called, rudimental fangs.

Small and thin, they bypassed her lateral incisors, not canines, just far enough she could sink them in a bag – or flesh – and suck blood without tasting it. As each fang had tiny holes linked in a one-way connection to the left side of her heart, where it was then pumped to the rest of her body, it was the most efficient method of ingestion. Swallowing required more consumption, due to those wonderful tummy acids. But as Chris laughed above her, saying something about the Florida job going nowhere, she didn’t much care about how blood was absorbed, because all she wanted to do was spill it.

Because the worst thing about this particular scouting mission in Alaska? It was too damn close to everything she’d run away from.

“You’re going to break that handle if you squeeze it any tighter.”

The touch of Lance’s hands over her own, combined with the empathy thick in his voice, had Ria tumbling back to reality. Locking her gaze on his concerned one like a lifeboat, she slowly unclenched her fingers from the handle of the push broom, relinquishing it.

“He’s an ass,” Robby whispered at her side, the spade he’d been using to methodically dig up the dirt along the brick wall in his fist. “We all know it, but he’s also the boss. If he wants to leave, we don’t have a choice.”

Ria jerked her attention back to Lance, who lifted a shoulder in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Ria, but Robby’s right.”

Seeing red, and feeling her baby fangs emerge as her emotions went haywire, Ria kept her mouth shut and turned away, her long legs stretching wide as she all but stomped to the other end of the ruin. Rattled by her extreme reaction, she fought to get her breathing back to normal. It wasn’t like her to lose control like this. From a young age she’d learned to hide feelings of anger, fear or anxiety as they only fed Kalin’s perverse enjoyment. Extreme emotional responses also increased blood flow and made the organs work harder, thus requiring more blood.

While she didn’t yet feel sick or faint, she knew it was only a matter of time before she would need to replenish what was coursing through her veins. Between the cold, lack of sleep and the fierce arousal that had come over her like a tsunami, blood was speeding through her system like a cheetah on cocaine. If she didn’t get her luggage soon, she’d have to utilize her emergency stash, which, at this rate, would only keep her going for a day at the most.

Worst case scenario? Making a snack out of a co-worker. Not a happy thought. She might not be able to mesmerize a conscience human like her full-blown brethren, but she could pick a lock, sneak into a room, and keep a sleeping one in dreamland while she took what she needed.

It wasn’t exactly ethical, but when it came down to survival, she would do what was necessary to remain alive.

“It’s not the first time Chris has pulled the plug far sooner than what we thought reasonable, and won’t be the last,” Robby put in, his face a study of bemusement as he watched her walk out her mad. “So what’s the deal?”

“The deal,” Ria pointed a finger in emphasize as she headed back towards the two men, “is that we didn’t have the proper tools to begin with. We’re also subject to the owner’s stipulation of leaving the reserve before dark.”

“That’s not an unjust stipulation, Ria,” Lance was quick to state. “Gwen’s seen jaguars out here. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have any desire to be thought of as food.”

Ria nearly stumbled over her own feet at Lance’s words. Hiding her action by swiveling to make another ground-eating pass to the far side, she clamped her lips together. Guess she wouldn’t be sipping from Lance. A problem because out of the three, he was the only one she might be able to stomach having her fangs in.

Drinking from the source, for Ria, was sexual, and if she got carried away, Lance was the only one she might – and that was a huge might – not be disgusted at having sex with.

Her vision blurred, reformed with an image of Santos. Now there was a man she wouldn’t mind sinking her fangs in – code name sex – with capital letters. With a couple exclamation points.

Last night she’d been so tempted to take him up on his invitation. Far from stupid, she knew exactly what he’d been offering, and it wasn’t just a cup of hot tea. It had been a sinful coaxing of her senses; his husky words, the heat in his eyes, the slow glide of his finger along her chilled flesh. Her body had responded then as it did now at the memory, with a churning desire that burned hot enough to set her on fire. It was obvious, by the way she continued to ache with a caged need that clawed at her gut, she should have ignored Chris and followed Santos into his home for a long, sweaty, low down and dirty ride.

All too easily she could picture herself astride his muscled body, her imagination acute enough to feel him filling her, stroking her as her inner muscles clenched around his cock, his hands raising to cup her breasts.

Sucking in a ragged breath at the erotic play dancing gleefully in her mind, she realized she needed to get laid, and since Santos seemed agreeable, she could take care of this crazy itch and rid herself of the mind-numbing sexual attraction she had for the shifter in one shot.

“However,” Lance continued, dragging Ria back to the present, “we could probably convince him to let one or two of us stay for the allotted week.” When Ria glanced over her shoulder at him, he continued. “It’s not monetarily sound to fly us all out to Alaska on such short notice, especially since he’d either have to buy us winter clothing or first fly us home to repack and
then
fly us north. That’s a crazy amount of money to spend, even for Chris.”

Ria halted in her tracks, her anger and unwanted desire subsiding slightly as she focused on his logic. “True. But he was already hesitant about this job because it’s on private land. It’s possible he’ll order us all out anyway since anything of value would remain with the Felix family.”

“Except if we found something of historical significance,” Lance parried. “It’ll boost his esteem with the academic world. Respect is always a high motivating factor.”

A shadow fell over her as she was contemplatively chewing the inside of her lip. She looked up, and up some more, as Chris stood at the edge of the hole some twenty feet above her, staring down at the trio with a tight expression on his face.

“Teri’s found the Hagzen-Moore crystal spider. We need to get to Alaska.” His tone implied that refusal was not an option.

Except Ria was going to refuse. “You promised me a week, Chris. It hasn’t even been forty-eight hours.”

His brows arched, a mocking response. “There’s nothing here except some stones, and not very old ones at that.”

Hands on hips, eyes blazing with pent up frustration that flowed from so many different areas, she retorted, “That’s because I can’t do much more without the proper tools. You want to run off before we solve this mystery, fine, but I’m staying here.”