Fangs for Nothing (18 page)

It was catastrophic.

She didn’t dare look at Johnny. She felt like if she did, the entire truth of who they were would be written all over her face, and there would be no way out of this situation. She would find herself tied up in a laboratory like Jean-Baptiste had, being dissected alive. Johnny and Dick seemed to still be stuck on gaming, so she didn’t think he had heard her conversation with Benny.

Suddenly it also occurred to her that it was a rather alarming coincidence that on two separate occasions where a large group of vampires had gathered, multiple people had been drugged to the point of no memory.

That terrified her. Was it a conspiracy? Were the mortals out to kill vampires? Vampires out to expose and eliminate other vampires?

She did not know what any of this meant.

“I cannot believe this,” she whispered.

“Wait a minute.”

Her head snapped up. She realized Benny was staring at her. “You’re one too, aren’t you? Of course you are! God, I’m so stupid.” Then he put his hand over his mouth. “Sorry, am I not supposed to say the
G
word? Ever since I gave Saxon that crucifix burn on his forehead I’m always worried I’m like causing you pain or whatever.”

“I am not . . . a vampire,” she managed to say, though the words stuck in her throat. Her entire life had been spent hiding the truth, to the point that no one had ever suspected what she was. In two hundred years she had never once been accused of being a vampire, and she found the direct question overwhelming and frightening to the point of paralysis.

“You don’t have to deny it. I should have guessed it before. You’re pale and you’re from Paris.”

What did that have to do with immortality? “I am just French. I wish I were immortal,” she said, with an attempt at deflection. “Then I wouldn’t have to worry about watching my weight.” It seemed like something a mortal woman would say, but Benny seemed to immediately dismiss her words with a wave of his hand.

“Whatever. Your secret is safe with me.” His eyes lit up in a way that only deepened Lizette’s fear. “You can bite me if you want. Drink my blood. I’m down with that.”

That snapped her out of her stupor. “Don’t be ridiculous!” she said to him. “No one is going to be biting anyone.” Of course, that had not been the case ninety minutes earlier, when she and Johnny had been sinking their fangs into each other. But this was why their identity needed to be a secret, why the VA was so important. Benny was most likely harmless, albeit a nuisance, but for every Benny, there would be a mortal who could present a real danger to their very existence.

It infuriated her that Johnny and others were so casual about letting mortals know the truth.

“That sucks.” Then Benny burst out laughing. “Ha-ha. Sucks.”

Lizette wasn’t one to normally roll her eyes, as she saved her irritation with others for her private thoughts, but she could not restrain the impolite gesture now. She was not in any mood for manners. “Call Saxon and tell him he needs to meet us here.
Now
.”

Benny’s laughter cut off and his lips jutted out in a pout. “You don’t have to be mean. Geez.”

Knowing that she was about to lose her shit entirely if something didn’t happen in the next sixty seconds, Lizette took a deep breath. “Will you please call Saxon and ask him to meet Johnny and me here? It’s extremely important.”

“Sure. Are you sure you aren’t interested in biting me?”

Before she could respond, Johnny finally seemed to have pulled his head out of his imaginary computer screen game playing and heard what they were discussing.

“Hey,” he told Benny. “Don’t be talking to her like that. I just told you she was with me.”

Yet, that wasn’t the kind of assistance she was looking for from him. “Johnny, may I speak with you outside? Benny saw Saxon earlier tonight and he is going to call him on our behalf and ask him to meet us here.”

Johnny wasn’t even looking at her, she noted with total frustration. Did he not understand the importance of what was happening? They had been
outed
.

“Can it wait a second, babe? Dick’s friend Brian just walked in.”

“It really cannot wait!” she said shrilly.

* * *

JOHNNY WASN’T SURE
why Lizette suddenly had a bug up her butt. Here he was trying to get them out of handcuffs and she was shrieking at him. Though he supposed he had been acting weird for the last hour. He wasn’t exactly stellar at hiding his awkwardness, and his sudden and unexpected feelings for Lizette made him feel hugely awkward. Going-through-puberty awkward. So maybe she was just picking up on the vibe he had created. Which was why it made even more sense that they get out of the cuffs.

“Brian has a lock pick,” he told her. “Dick says he can spring us in two minutes flat.”

She didn’t say anything, but her foot was tapping furiously on the rung of her stool and her fingers were drumming on her purse, which she had slapped onto the bar. With more attitude than grace, she dug into her bag one-handed and pulled out a wad of singles. One by one she started counting them out and Johnny had to admit he was mystified as to what the hell she was doing.

“Are you a dancer too?” Benny asked.

Oh, bad question. Johnny winced.

“No.” Her response was almost a growl.

Johnny shifted on his seat, suddenly fearful for his testicles. She looked enraged and he had no clue why. Fortunately, he was spared from having to confront the issue by Brian approaching Dick, and introductions were made all around. Lizette ignored them, even as Brian pulled on the cuffs to examine them, forcing her hand to dangle over the bar.

“This is a double lock. Little harder but nothing I can’t handle. It will just take me a minute or two.” Brian wasn’t as tall as Dick, but he had a similar build, long and lean, and he had straight black hair and a strong nose. Between his features and the necklace and vest he was wearing, Johnny had the impression he was of Native American descent.

“Thanks, man, I appreciate you doing this.”

“Sounds like a crazy night.” Brian was quiet, calm, pulling a pick out of his pocket and studying the lock on the cuffs with intense concentration. “So who should I spring first?”

“Lizette,” Johnny said without hesitation. She clearly needed something, maybe being free of her titanium restraint would improve her mood. Funny how an hour ago he had been panicking at the thought of Lizette staying with him, now he was panicking at the thought that she might not want to stay with him. Stupid. Completely and totally stupid.

“
Merci
,” she said coldly and formally, which was not at all reassuring. Then she said something to him in French that he suspected was her explanation of why she was so pissed. Only he of course couldn’t understand a freaking word she was saying.

“I know,” he told her, because really what else was he supposed to say? They had a skinny guy with Cher hair in between them jamming a pick into their cuffs.

Wait a minute. Brian looked like Cher, too, now that he thought about it, though he was dressed like a man and wasn’t wearing mascara. But there was something familiar about him. Johnny swung his gaze back and forth between Dick and Brian and felt a niggling of a memory. “Were you both at the wedding last night?”

Dick grinned. “Maybe. Don’t you remember?”

Brian had been Half-Breed Cher. He was sure of it. “I’m starting to think that all we need is a Turn Back Time Cher and we’ll have Cher through the decades.” God, that was weird. If a flash mob of Cher impersonators broke into “I Got You, Babe” all around him, he was out of there.

“First lock undone,” Brian murmured, hair sliding over Johnny’s arm as he worked in concentration.

Lizette said something in French.

“Absolutely,” Johnny said.

“Dude,” Benny said.

“You’re a little slow on the uptake,” Dick said. “Of course we are.”

What? “You mean you are Cher through the decades?”

“Duh. Every tranny gang needs a theme of sorts.”

Tranny gang? Did such a thing exist? And if so, why? It wasn’t like he and the other guys were a vampire gang. They were just a group of friends who hung out. They were a band, which was a legitimate reason to call themselves a group. “What makes you a gang?”

But Dick clucked his tongue. “Never mind.”

“Got it.” Brian clicked open the ring around Lizette’s wrist and let her free, then closed it again.

Lizette’s eyes lit up and she bent her arm and clutched her now-free hand to her chest. “Oh, thank you. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate this!”

Wow. That sounded like eager relief to be rid of her attachment to him. Johnny felt a little bitter.

“Oh, shit, we’re late!” Dick glanced at his phone. “Benny, we have to blow. Brian, let’s go.”

“I never said I would blow you,” Benny said.

Dick rolled his eyes, his fake eyelashes fluttering. Glittery eye shadow floated down to land on his flawless cheeks. “Trust me, I wouldn’t want you to. It would be like—”

Johnny cut him off because truthfully, he didn’t want to know where that statement was going. “Brian, can’t I at least buy you a drink for your help?”

But Brian shook his head. “Sorry, Richard is right. We need to take off. Since I only got your friend free, don’t worry about it.”

Hold up. “You’re not going to get me out of the cuffs?”

“Sorry, got to run.” Brian started to move away from the bar. Dick was already almost at the door.

“Can’t you at least leave me the pick?” he asked.

“No, this is custom-made. Look, I’ll catch up with you in an hour or so, okay? See ya.”

Then they were gone and Johnny was left staring at the door as it swung shut behind them. So he was no longer attached to Lizette, but he still had a metal bracelet on. He sighed.

Benny hung up his phone and said, “Saxon isn’t picking up.”

Johnny could have told him that. He’d been calling the guy all night and he hadn’t picked up. Lizette said something in French. Johnny was getting a headache. It was like his hangover was reappearing.

Maybe it was time to come clean. “Lizette, I have to tell you the truth. I don’t really speak French. I have no fucking idea what you’re saying. Or have been saying.”

It wasn’t that big of a deal, right? Just a minor fact he had forgotten to share with her.

“Uh!” She gasped in indignation. Then she threw her glass of wine in his face.

The cool liquid hit him before he could react, and Johnny blinked, droplets on his eyelashes blurring his vision. He licked his lips and found her taste in wine was too sweet for his liking.

“How dare you!”

Johnny wished he had a counter to keep track of how many times she had said that to him in the last eight hours. It would make a fun drinking game, if he were in the mood for fun. Which he wasn’t.

“Pretending to understand me all this time! I feel humiliated.”

“Yeah, a whole whopping eight hours. The breadth of my deception is enormous.” And yes, that was sarcasm. “At least you’re out of the handcuffs now.”

He wiped his face with his hand and flung wine onto his jeans. That had not been a drink-in-the-face offense, he had to say.

“Which is excellent news because it means I can walk away from you.” She rose from her stool, head held high, slapping down a pile of ones to pay for her drink.

She was leaving? Where was she going? Johnny stood up, the loose end of the cuffs dangling and hitting him in the thigh. “Is everything okay?” he asked, because it seemed like a safe enough question to ask. If you asked a woman what was wrong, she either said she was fine or she jumped your shit for thinking something was wrong. This way, it sounded more polite.

Which did not explain why Lizette, the most by-the-book woman he had ever met, flipped him off as she strode out of the bar in her stapled T-shirt, expensive handbag firmly on her shoulder, his shorts sagging on her narrow hips.

Flipped him off.

What was that?

Chapter Fourteen

GIVE ME ALL YOUR LOVIN’

D
RAKE
cast Josie Lynn an almost confused look over his shoulder, but then nodded. “Oh right. Sure.”

He paused at the first door, gently placing a hand on the doorknob. He hesitated for a second, then whipped it open and flipped the wall switch. The room illuminated to reveal a roomful of guitars and other music equipment, but no signs of anyone.

“Everything looks fine here,” he said, and Josie Lynn immediately pressed a finger to her lips. If anyone was there, they probably already knew someone had entered the apartment, but she didn’t want Drake to make it so easy for the intruder to know exactly where they were.

He looked puzzled for a moment, then whispered, “Right. Better to keep it down.”

Exactly, she thought. Why wasn’t he worried?

He went to the next door, this one open but dark. He reached around to the light switch. The light turned on and revealed a white-tiled bathroom. Drake stepped inside, glanced around, then shook his head.

“The shower,” Josie Lynn mouthed, pointing to the closed shower curtain.

He made an
oh right
sort of expression and took a quiet step toward the curtain, covered with different depictions of Elvis Presley. Elvis through the decades, apropos for Chers through the decades to hide behind, Josie Lynn thought.

Again, she noticed he didn’t hesitate to rip back the curtain, as if he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt there was no one hiding in the tub. And he was right. Aside from several bottles of shampoo and conditioner, a bar of soap, and a razor, the shower was empty.

She stepped back from the bathroom door to let him out. She didn’t even look over her shoulder. He seemed so certain the place was empty that she was starting to think she might be overreacting, too.

But as if to appease her, he moved past her to the next door. He turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, but before he could even reach for the light switch, something swooped out of the room.

The only impression Josie Lynn got was the shadowy image of something flying close to her head and the whoosh of wings.

“What the hell?” Drake said, voicing her very own thought.

But she didn’t stop to answer. Instead she grabbed his arm and tugged him into the dark room, slamming the door behind them. She fell back against the door and pulled him back against her, using both of their bodies to block the door.

They stood still, only their breathing audible in the blackness of the room.

“What—what was that?” she finally whispered after a few moments.

Drake didn’t answer right away, then he muttered as if with dawning realization. “Saxon.”

“Saxon?” What on earth was he talking about? That was a bird or some other flying creature. She shivered. God, she hated things that flew.

“I—I mean that was probably Saxon’s pet,” Drake said, although even without being able to see his expression, she didn’t quite believe his explanation.

“Saxon’s pet? What is it? And why would it be at your apartment?”

“He must have left it here because of the wedding.”

Okay, not sure why he’d do that, but whatever.

“What the heck is it?”

“A—a bat.”

* * *

WHY THE HELL
had he told her that? Drake mentally kicked himself. Who had a pet bat?

“Who has a pet bat?” she asked, obviously coming to the very same conclusion.

“The same guy who has a pet alligator,” Drake said, rather proud of that quick connection.

“Oh.”

She seemed to buy it, even though it wasn’t the truth. He suspected whatever had flown past them was actually Saxon. This happened the last time they’d all blacked out due to being drugged.

The last time they’d all blacked out due to being drugged.
Wow, who really got to say that twice in a lifetime? Even as long as all of his friends had all lived, it still seemed like a weird thing to say. But last time, Stella had been the one who got stuck in bat form. This time he was willing to bet it was Saxon. That would explain why he’d gone missing on his wedding night.

Josie Lynn shivered, her whole body vibrating against his. The subtle movement was enough to make him groan.

“Are you okay?” he murmured, moving his face closer to hers. He could feel the warmth of her breath and the sweet scent of the wine she’d drank on her lips.

“I’m—I’m fine.” But she shuddered again.

He could now smell her arousal and he couldn’t stop himself. His hands found her hips and pulled her even closer. She gasped, and for just the briefest moment, he thought she was going to surrender and allow her body to stay pressed tightly to his. That she might even kiss him. Or let him kiss her.

But instead, she pushed at his chest with a strength that surprised him, although he wasn’t sure why. She was a tough cookie. He knew that.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, trying to ignore his disappointment, because he knew she wasn’t telling the truth about being okay. He could smell fear on her, too, though that was harder to focus on than her desire.

He moved away from her, even though he really didn’t want to, and flipped on the light. They both blinked as their eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.

She remained against the door, her back tight against it and her arms crossed around her, like she was cold. Or truly freaked-out.

“What’s wrong?” he repeated.

She still didn’t answer for a moment, though he could also see that she was notably pale. She was really shaken, although in what he’d already learned was Josie Lynn fashion, she was trying to hide it.

“I hate things with wings, okay? Birds, bats, big flying bugs.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, but her expression clearly stated she hated admitting that fear.

Any fear, he suspected.

“Well, we all have things that freak us out.”

She shot him a skeptical look. “And what freaks you out?”

He didn’t even have to hesitate. “I hate enclosed spaces. And being constrained in any way.”

She dropped her arms, immediately distracted from her fears by the admission of his. “Really?”

He nodded.

“But you seemed okay with being in that sex swing thing earlier.”

“I was faking. I was absolutely freaking out.”

“Good acting,” she said, sounding truly impressed.

“Thanks.”

Since they were talking candidly, he decided to keep the confessional going.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Some of her reserve returned, and she crossed her arms back over her chest. Always protecting herself. Always acting strong. Even when she was unnerved—like right now.

She nodded, even though he knew she didn’t really want to answer any questions.

“Why did you kiss me at The Dungeon?”

“To irritate Obsidian,” she said in a way that stated that she clearly hoped that was answer enough and this would be the end of Twenty Questions.

Too bad. She wasn’t going to be that lucky.

“You were affected by our kiss. I could feel it. And you already know I’m very, very attracted to you.”

He expected her to deny his claim, but instead she just nodded. “I am attracted to you.”

Shit, that wasn’t even an enthusiastic admission and he was as hard as tempered steel.

“You confuse me,” he admitted. “One minute, I feel like we are actually communicating, and you’re almost comfortable with me. Then the next you shut down and are distant.”

She gave him a helpless look, like she had no idea what he wanted her to say.

“For example, why did you seem fine with my being protective of you when that creepy Donald was talking to us at Madame Renee’s, yet when I stepped in with that drunken jerk on Bourbon, you were angry with me?”

She looked away from him, and for a moment, he just assumed she would tell him she didn’t know. Or that she didn’t need to explain herself, but then her vivid blue eyes found his.

“Because I liked you protecting me too much.”

He hadn’t expected that.

“Why? I wanted to protect you. I like protecting you.” He liked it a lot. Probably he liked it too much, if truth be told, especially given she was a woman he barely knew. And human to boot.

“Because I find it’s just a lot better if I take care of myself.”

Suddenly he realized why she could go from soft and aroused to prickly in seconds flat.

She’d been hurt. Badly hurt from the looks of it. She didn’t trust him—or any man, he was willing to bet.

Why hadn’t he realized that earlier? Wasn’t that why he tended to keep himself distant from women and relationships, too?

“I can understand that,” he said softly. “Believe me, I can. But we all need help sometimes. And we all have to trust someone once in a while, too, even if it’s hard.”

She laughed then, the sound hard and bitter. “That’s kind of rich coming from you. You are telling me to trust you, but you think I’m a thief and a liar.”

Drake could easily understand her incredulity with him. He stepped closer to her, but left a few inches of space between them, not wanting her to feel cornered. That was the last thing a woman who didn’t trust men—or maybe anyone—needed.

“I stopped thinking you were involved in the drugging and robbery basically before we even left Zelda and Saxon’s.”

“Why’s that?” she said, her tone no softer, no less filled with sarcastic mistrust.

“Because you could have run at any point tonight. Hell, you could have darted and left me to fight a gator if you wanted, but you didn’t. I know you want answers just as much as I do.”

She stared at him for a moment, and then her arms dropped back to her sides. Her guard was coming down a little, but she clearly didn’t know what to say.

He didn’t want her to say any more. He just wanted to touch her. Reassure her that she could trust him. He wanted to continue to protect her. He wanted to make love to her.

He shifted closer, and her eyes met his. Again, he expected to see caution and doubt in her eyes, but instead he saw something almost like tentative hope in her unblinking gaze.

He risked moving closer still and slowly reached out to touch her cheek.

“I know you still don’t trust me, but I honestly don’t want to hurt you. I’m going to be totally honest with you. I really want to kiss you.”

She managed to surprise him again. “I really want to kiss you, too.”

* * *

JOSIE LYNN COULDN’T
believe she had told him that, or that she was leaning in to meet his lips. A part of her kept repeating this was a terrible, terrible idea and she was bound to get hurt. But another part, which at the moment was being much louder and making much more sense, kept telling her to take a risk, go with it, enjoy this moment.

She liked the second voice’s advice better.

And when Drake’s lips captured her, she liked it even more. Damn, this man could kiss.

His mouth molded to hers like it had been made just for her. She couldn’t remember a kiss quite like his, so perfect, so earth-shattering, so . . .

Dangerous, the party-pooper voice stated.

Then Drake’s tongue slipped over her lips, tasting her. Then deeper. Then she didn’t care if this was dangerous, she just wanted the moment to continue. Her tongue found his, and he moaned, pinning her against the door. His hands moved to her hips, pulling her tightly against him, his muscular body hard and heavy and delicious against hers. Her arms looped around his neck and she could feel the brush of his hair against her fingers.

“Damn, you make me crazy,” he murmured against her lips.

Crazy, that was exactly what this was. But she didn’t want to stop, and clearly, neither did he as his hand slid down her hip to hike up the hem of his shirt. His fingers, rough from playing guitar, she supposed, stroked over her bare upper thigh. The sensation was thrilling, those roughened fingertips strong and masculine, just like the rest of him.

“I want to go slow,” he whispered, but even in her haze of desire, she knew
want
was the operative word. Slow wasn’t going to happen for either of them. It was as if they’d finally admitted this enormous attraction and nothing was going to stop them from being together. Not even the luxury of exploring each other’s bodies. They’d take the luxury next time.

Next time. Was she even sure there would be a next time?

Stop thinking,
the lust-driven side of her brain told her. Just feel. Just fuck.

Drake’s brain seemed to be telling him the same thing, because his hand slipped between her thighs, nudging her tiny lace panties aside to rub the already-wet flesh underneath. She gasped, arching against him. He growled, finding her swollen clit, circling it with his thumb as a finger slid inside her. Then another finger.

She dug her fingers into the muscles of his shoulders, angling her hips upward to afford him better access, deeper access.

“You are so hot and wet. I have to taste you,” he said, his already-raspy voice a low rumble. She made a dismayed noise as his fingers left her throbbing sex.

He smiled at the sound, that naughty grin of his making her ache even more.

“Don’t worry, love, I’ll be right back down there. Believe me.”

His talented fingers then moved to the buttons of his shirt, flicking each one open until he reached the belt she wore. It only took him moments for that to hit the floor with a muffled thud. Then he parted the shirt, exposing her to his hungry eyes.

Josie Lynn was not a thin girl. She had full, heavy breasts, a slight curve to her belly, and flared hips. And Drake looked like he wanted to gobble up every part of her.

“You are absolutely perfect,” he said, his voice, husky and worshipping.

God, she loved the look in his dark, intense eyes. She felt perfect.

He ducked his head, capturing one of her rosy nipples between his lips. He sucked and swirled his tongue around it, until again she was arching her back, demanding more. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

But he still managed to shift away to lavish attention on her other breast as his hand returned to stroke between her thighs. She cried out as her orgasm hit her, sudden and fierce like a wild summer thunderstorm. Powerful, electric. She sagged against the door, weak from the intensity of it. But Drake wasn’t about to allow her respite.