Games Demons Play (Mystic Isle, Book 3) (2 page)

Her lights blinded Izzy.

She squinched her lids shut and held out a
hand to further shield herself.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” A twig snapped
beneath his foot as he approached. A heavy hand settled on her left
shoulder. Izzy spun away from him, hissing.

“Whoa! It’s okay, little vamp.”

“This is not okay!”

This was bad. So very bad. Valencia was going
to kill her. She would not be surprised if the mansion had a
dungeon somewhere. Valencia would lock her up for all eternity.

“It can be fixed.”

She started to tremble. “Fixed?” Izzy
screeched, feeling more unraveled by the second.

Valencia saved her life. Turned her. Gave her
a home. Protection. Taught her the ways of the vampire. And what
had Izzy done? Wrecked the most expensive car in V’s stable.

Oh heavens. She was going to pass out. Was it
possible for a vamp to pass out?

She quickly sat before she fell. The handsome
man sat next to her. She squinted at the upside-down car.

“Do you have any idea how much it would cost
to fix,” she waved her hand in the general direction of the
Bugatti, “that?”

Izzy felt lightheaded and pressed the heel of
her hand against her forehead. Blood pounded in her ears.

“Put your head between your knees,” he said,
putting a hand between her shoulder blades. She wrapped her arms
around her knees and let him push her forward. His palm was warm
against her back, almost searing through the t-shirt material and
black leather jacket.

“Surely if you can afford a Bugatti, you can
afford to fix it,” he said several moments later.

She turned her head to the side and glared at
him. It was not his fault, though. She was driving the ridiculously
expensive car. She had wrecked it. “It is not my car,” she admitted
and then hid her face against her forearms.

“Whose car is it?”

“My friend’s.”

“Surely he’ll understand the accident wasn’t
your fault. A tire blowout isn’t anyone’s fault.”

Izzy frowned. “She,” she stressed the word,
“will not understand.” Valencia would certainly not understand the
invisible force pulling Izzy toward the car. The indescribable
yearning. The desire that made her do things shouldn’t. Izzy didn’t
understand it.

She tipped her head the other way and stared
at the car. Such engineering perfection. Ruined. Her stomach
heaved.

He rubbed her back.

Who was this gentle giant?

“I took it. Without asking.” She lifted her
head. “I— I could not resist. She sits in the garage begging to be
driven.”

He laughed softly but she did not get the
impression that he thought she was crazy. “It’s a shame to let
something so beautiful sit idle.”

She lifted her head and turned toward him
again. He was staring at her, his gaze tracing over her face. She
got the feeling that he was not only speaking about the car.

There was something about his eyes that
calmed her. An unusual shade of gray, almost silver. But he was
definitely not a vampire. For starters, he was warm. And big.
Really, really big. She hadn’t seen a single flash of fangs.

Up close, he was sinfully handsome. The kind
of man a woman dreamed about but never actually met. Thick, dark
eyelashes. A perfect nose. Kissable mouth. Strong, unshaven jaw.
And dark hair that brushed his shoulders, giving him the perfect
bad boy appearance.

Over the pain in her heart and thundering of
her heartbeat, Izzy was aware of two things. She’d most likely just
totaled Valencia’s Bugatti and the man rubbing her back was
not
human.

Something wet was trickling into her
eye.

“Oh,” she moaned.

“I’ve got you,” a deep, masculine
voice rumbled in her ears.

She tried to open her eyes.
Her head pounded. Too much light. Was it morning already?
Panic bolted through her and she
struggled.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,”
the voice said again. Big hands held her wrists captive.

“Impossible,” she
murmured.

“Don’t move.”

The words sent a fresh tendril of
fear through her. Not again. No. Not again. Fear. 

Struggle. Scream.
Coco’s voice echoed through her mind.
Scream. Fight.

For the briefest of seconds, Izzy
took stock of her injuries. Nothing felt broken. She opened her
eyes and threw her arms out at the same time, breaking the man’s
hold. He tumbled backward, clutching his nose, cussing.

Eyes wide, she sprang to her feet.
She had to get to shelter. She had to get out of the
sun.

“Jesus, woman!”

The man from the car. It was still
dark. But, how—oh no. No. “No. No. No. No. No!”

She stumbled up the hillside to
where Gorgeous lay, upside down, her windshield gaping open. Bits
of her lay scattered on the slope. A fender. A side
mirror.

Her lights blinded Izzy.

She squinched her lids shut and held
out a hand to further shield herself.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” A twig
snapped beneath his foot as he approached. A heavy hand settled on
her left shoulder. Izzy spun away from him, hissing.

“Whoa! It’s okay, little
vamp.”

“This is not okay!”

This was bad. So very bad.
Valencia was going to kill her. She would not be surprised if the
mansion had a dungeon somewhere. Valencia would lock her up for all
eternity.

“It can be fixed.”

“Fixed?” Izzy screeched, feeling
more unraveled by the second.

Valencia saved her life. Turned
her. Gave her a home. Protection. Taught her the ways of the
vampire. And what had Izzy done? Wrecked the most expensive car in
V’s stable.

Oh heavens. She was going to pass
out. Was it possible for a vamp to pass out?

She quickly sat before she fell.
The handsome man sat next to her. She squinted at the upside-down
car.

“Do you have any idea how much it
would cost to fix,” she waved her hand in the general direction of
the Bugatti, “that?”

Izzy felt lightheaded.

“Put your head between your
knees,” he said, putting a hand between her shoulder blades. She
wrapped her arms around her knees and let him push her
forward.

“Surely if you can afford a
Bugatti, you can afford to fix it,” he said several moments
later.

She turned her head to the side
and glared at him. It was not his fault, though. She was driving
the ridiculously expensive car. She had wrecked it. “It is not my
car,” she admitted and then hid her face against her
forearms.

“Whose car is it?”

“My friend’s.”

“Surely he’ll understand the
accident wasn’t your fault. A tire blowout isn’t anyone’s
fault.”

Izzy frowned. “She,” she stressed
the word, “will not understand.” She tipped her head the other way
and stared at the car. Such engineering perfection. Ruined. Her
stomach heaved.

He rubbed her back.

Who was this gentle
giant?

“I took it. Without asking.” She
lifted her head. “I—I could not resist. She sits in the garage
begging to be driven.”

He laughed softly but she did not
get the impression that he thought she was crazy. “It’s a shame to
let something so beautiful sit idle.”

She turned toward him again. He
was staring at her, his gaze tracing over her face. She got the
feeling that he was not only speaking about the car.

There was something about his eyes
that calmed her. An unusual shade of gray, almost silver. But he
was definitely not a vampire. For starters, he was warm. And big.
Really, really big. She hadn’t seen a single flash of
fangs.

Up close, he was sinfully handsome.
The kind of man a woman dreamed about but never actually met.
Thick, dark eyelashes. A perfect nose. Kissable mouth. Strong,
unshaven jaw. And dark hair that brushed his shoulders, giving him
the perfect bad boy appearance.

Izzy was sure of two things. She’d
totaled Valencia’s Bugatti and the man rubbing her back was not
human.

The lovely little vamp’s eyes fluttered once.
Then again. Blood dribbled down her cheek, a dark contrast to her
perfect pale skin, but almost the exact shade of her deep red
lipstick. Despite her feistiness right after the crash, Shade got
the impression that she wasn’t well-equipped to handle this
situation. At the moment, she seemed more worried about the car
than her own safety.

She sure was a tiny little thing. Her
platinum blonde hair and icy blue eyes reminded him of the
porcelain dolls Germany was so famous for.

He glanced at the watch on his right wrist.
Only a few minutes had passed since the accident but there wasn’t
much time to lose. They needed to get her inside before the sun
crested.

Unfortunately, she was quickly losing herself
to delirium. The corner of her succulent little mouth turned up in
a coy grin.

“You are cute,” she said in that adorable
accent. Eastern European? Russian? He wasn’t sure.

“Thank you.” He pulled out his cell and hit
the first number on his Favorites list.

“Pierre, send a wrecker, would you?” He gave
his location. After clicking off, he returned his attention to the
sprite next to him. “Come on. Let’s get you to safety.”

“V is not going to be happy with me. I could
not help myself. It was like I was under a spell.”

Shade knew that feeling, all too well. The
out-of-body experience. Synchronicity some called it. The moment
when the universe seemed so perfectly lined up that anything was
possible and an outside power, a higher force, had taken
control.

He felt that way every time he heard the
dealer shuffle the cards before a poker match. It was the same
feeling he got when he pushed his car to the limits. And now, he
felt it when he looked at this gorgeous vampiress.

He pushed to his feet and then swung her up
in his arms. She did not freak out this time. If anything, she
became more subdued. She was obviously still losing blood. It
wouldn’t be long before her body began to shut down and she fell
into a vampiric coma.

He was not equipped to handle that. Why
wasn’t she healing? All the vampires he’d met were fast
healers.

She curled against him as he made his way
down the slope to his Ferrari. “Smell good,” she murmured against
his neck.

“What’s your name?” he asked, trying to keep
her conscious.

“Isa-dora.”

“Nice to meet you, Isadora. My friends call
me Shade.”

“Shade?” Her head rolled back and she looked
up at him. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut; lightning
fast, but it still stole his breath. What was it about this woman
that heated his blood and made him want to haul her off and keep
her all to himself? She was young. He could sense her inexperience.
But there was a worldly air to her as well. Something in her eyes
told him that she’d done a lot of living in a short time. That she
would be an interesting… companion.

He appreciated her honesty. And loyalty. It
wasn’t often that he met someone who possessed those qualities in
equal measure.

“My friends… Izzy. Call me Izzy.”

“Hold on tight, Izzy.” He felt the wetness
seeping into his shirt cool in the night air. He bent low and
opened the door. She weighed hardly anything at all and looked
almost childlike inside his car. Her blood-smeared face made his
breath catch and he quickly knelt next to the car and checked her
pulse. Slow.

“Izzy… sweetheart, why aren’t you
healing?”

Two tiny fangs peeked out from beneath her
upper lip. “Tired.”

“I know you are, honey. Why aren’t you
healing?”

“Blood… dis-bad blo… blood.”

Shade shook his head, unsure what to make of
that. “Bite me.” He held his right wrist in front of her lips.

“Hmmm.”

“Izzy, bite me.” He heard sirens in the
distance. Shite. Quickly, he strapped her in and slammed the door.
Without a second glance in the rearview mirror, he started the
engine and hit the gas. The moment he was in top gear, he checked
Izzy’s pulse again.

“Izzy.” He used his other hand to undo the
button at his wrist and jerk the sleeve up. Then he held out his
arm in front of her. “Bite me.”

“Why?” Her voice was weak. Quiet.

“You need blood.” And his would help her heal
quickly.

After a moment’s hesitation, he felt her
teeth scrape his skin. He’d been with plenty of vamps, but none of
them had touched him like she did. Soft, carefully cupping his arm
as she held him to her lips. Her teeth punctured his skin and he
sucked in a breath. The tiny pinpricks were barely painful and yet
exquisitely erotic.

His cock filled with blood and he squirmed in
his seat. Izzy drank slowly. He could tell she was growing stronger
by the second. Demon blood did that.

Even though she had creamy skin, he could see
her color coming back with the passing of each kilometer.

“Okay, honey, I’m going to need that arm
back.”

She disengaged, swiping the tiny wounds with
her tongue. He down shifted, pulling off the highway as she settled
back in the seat.

There wasn’t a peep from his passenger as he
negotiated the countryside. When he pulled up in front of his
estate, the garage door was already open. The headlights swiped
across the cavernous space, highlighting Pierre, his butler.