Hunted, The Complete Edition: A Full-length Steamy Vampire Romance (New England Nightwalkers) (9 page)

“Okay, so you lost it a little. I get that. But I’m a little bummed you didn’t tell me before you figured out that your dad was just delusional. We could’ve had a blast playing vampire hunter.”

Zara felt tears sting the back of her lids and blinked them back. She’d kept Steph at a distance for a while now, and the other woman’s friendship had never wavered. It was a huge weight off to know that she still wanted to be her friend in spite of Zara being so distant lately.

A true friend and a new lover. To think, a few days before, she’d thought herself alone in the world and unlucky.

"Know what I did this weekend? Went to that party and got home at eleven o’clock," Steph said, with a derisive smile. "Then spent the rest of it doing laundry and watching Making a Murderer. The entire series. Never left the couch." She pushed her stool back to stand. "And I thought I was the cool one."

“Oh, you still are.”

Steph held up her index finger. “Hold that thought,” she said. Then, she pasted a smile on her face and turned toward the service desk. "Can I help you?"

Zara hadn't even heard the door open, but there was a tiny old woman making her way to the desk with a toothless grin.

"I need some books about skydiving. I'm not getting any younger, so me and my sister, Muriel, are going to take the plunge. Can you help me?"

Steph shot a glance back at Zara and hissed, "Don't think this is over. I said I want details. That means, details." She held her hands about a foot apart and winked before turning back toward the woman and circling around the desk to join her. "I can definitely help you. Follow me. We can browse through the sports section together and see what's what. How old is Muriel?"

Zara listened with one ear as Steph did what she did best, but she was still pretty floored that her friend had reacted so well to all that she'd shared. If only she had known how much lighter her burden would've felt had she shared it sooner, she wouldn’t have been so tight-lipped.

She stuffed her purse into her desk drawer and faced her computer screen. She wanted so badly to leave her phone out so she could see if Gabriel called or texted but she managed to resist the urge. They were both adults and both had responsibilities. He said he would contact her when he could, and she would take him at his word. She’d just put her head down and get some work done, and if he called, he called.

No big deal.

Eight hours later, though, her eyes were glued to the phone on the desk in front of her. She’d already called herself from the library phone on the sly just to make sure her cell wasn’t broken.

"He'll call," Steph said for the tenth time, as she unplugged the coffee pot and switched off the stockroom lights. "A woman doesn't come into work looking like you did and not get a call."

Zara managed a half-smile, but the buzz of joy that had been with her from that morning had dwindled down to an occasional zap marked by moments of bone-deep sadness.

What if he didn't call? What if he never called again?

Then you will be all right,
she assured herself mentally.
Because you're a survivor and you've survived far worse than getting blown off by a guy you hardly know.

She straightened her shoulders and nodded as she tugged her coat on. "You're right. And if he doesn't, we still had an amazing time."

"We did, didn't we?"

She stumbled back with a gasp as Gabriel's voice washed over her. She wheeled around and held a hand over her thumping heart. "Gabriel. I didn't hear the door open."

"Sorry to scare you," he said. He nodded briefly to Steph before bending low to capture Zara’s mouth in a quick, hard kiss. "How was your day?"

She swayed on her feet for a long moment before opening her eyes.

He was here.

He was really here.

“My day was good.” She bit her lip hard to keep from grinning like a fool. She never did have a good poker face, and Gabriel only made it worse.

“So this is where you work.” He took a step back and peered around the library. Zara took the moment to take in his massive, fit physique. Even in his black wool coat, his shoulders were as wide as the broad side of a barn and her stomach clenched as she recalled exactly how strong those shoulders felt beneath her hands when she'd dug her fingernails into them.

A wave of heat rushed over her and Steph cleared her throat.

"Sorry, um, Steph, this is my friend and co-worker, Steph."

Gabriel turned his attention to Steph and granted her a wide grin.

Her friend gazed at him for a long moment, eyes wide, before nodding. "Yes. She’s right. I'm Steph," she repeated, her head bobbing like a marionette. “And, we, um, work together. Here. With the books and such.”

No question, Gabriel's sheer presence had bowled her over. Not that Zara could blame her. He was quite the specimen.

"And this is Gabriel, my..." she trailed off, unsure of how to finish.

She needn't have worried, because he finished it for her.

"Boyfriend works."

Boyfriend.

Zara's pulse leapt at the very thought. Sure, calling Gabriel anything but a man was ludicrous, but she didn't care. Because he'd said it with his own mouth. He was her boyfriend.

Holy crap, what a difference a weekend could make.

"Is this your stuff?" Gabriel asked, motioning to her coat and purse. She nodded and he snatched them up, taking a moment to help her with her coat. Behind his back, she locked eyes with Steph, who lifted a hand to her mouth and bit down hard on the knuckle of her index finger in the universal sign for
"Whoah, mama, that's a hot one."

By the time he turned back, though, she had managed to get herself together and offered him a pleasant smile.

"Well, Gabriel, it's very nice to meet you. I just want you to know that Zara here is my best friend, so if you mess with her, you mess with me. Got it?"

"Steph!" Zara glared at her, but Gabriel let out a smooth, low chuckle.

"It's fine. I appreciate loyalty in a person." He inclined his head toward her friend. "Duly noted. And just to let you know, I have no intention of hurting her. I'm quite fond of her."

It wasn't a declaration of love or anything, but dang, if it didn't make Zara's heart swell. She slid her purse over her shoulder and waved goodbye to her friend. “Good night, Steph. See you tomorrow.”

Steph waved and headed out the door, but not before chirping, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” over her shoulder.

Zara winced, but Gabriel just smiled as she left and then took Zara’s hand. "Would you like to spend the evening with me, or do you have plans?" he asked, as he led her toward the door.

Plans? She had the chance to spend another evening with Gabriel Thorne. Something she was worried she'd blown her chance at by being too forward earlier that morning. And now? He was calling himself her boyfriend.

Her only plan was to get him naked as quickly as possible.

"No plans. I’m all yours."

A
ll his
.

If she only knew how right she was.

Gabriel took a furtive glance at Zara in his periphery. She looked gorgeous, and smelled even better. His gums throbbed as his fangs threatened to break through, even now.

He hadn't planned to go to her job. In fact, his plan had been to see her as little as possible until he'd worked out how to secure her safety and had begun the process of breaking away from The Protectorate. Then, he could come to her with the truth. But fate had taken the choice out of his hands when his boss had called him into her office at lunchtime looking for an update on Zara. Apparently, she'd been trying to contact him all weekend, and the second he’d walked into Club Nitris that morning, she'd started barking in his earpiece.

The conversation had been short and sweet. He let her believe he was doing her bidding and would report back to her with any intel, and she had been mollified once she'd chewed his ass out for staying out of touch. But it made him realize that Operation: Avoid Zara wasn’t going to work. Irena was already suspicious and wanted regular reports. If she got wind of the fact that he wasn’t keeping an up close and personal eye on Zara, she would just bring one of the others in to do it.

And the thought of someone—another nightwalker—stalking his woman? Watching her every move? Made him want to commit a very bloody crime.

Luckily, Irena had enough shit going on with Ezekiel breathing down her neck that she'd been distracted and let him off with only a stern warning. Now, though, the lies, one building on another, were starting to get to him. He'd never been good at subterfuge. He'd always been the type of guy that said what he thought, and fuck the consequences.

But now, he had more than himself to think about.

He had Zara.

She shifted in the passenger’s seat beside him, sending another waft of her cherry blossom scent his way.

"Where are we going?" she asked. "Didn't we just pass your street?"

"I thought we could have a real date. Like dinner and some wine at a nice restaurant."

A restaurant where they would be sure to run into one of his kind. Then it would get back to Irena that he was, indeed, following through with his duty, and she would begin to let her guard down again.

As serious as the situation was, though, his lips twitched at the look of disappointment on Zara’s face at his announcement. It was almost enough to make him turn the car around and head back for his house, but in spite of the pragmatic reason for their destination, he had a few surprises up his sleeve. Already, his blood went hot at the thought.

"I wanted to make sure I fed you. We lived off crackers and cheese half the weekend. That hardly seems gentlemanly."

She nodded reluctantly and settled back against her seat.

She trusted him. As much as he liked that, it was also concerning. Was she just gullible, or was her trust for him alone? He hated that, sooner or later, once he told her the truth, he was going to have to destroy that trust, but for the time being, her naiveté was to his advantage.

His thoughts flicked back to her friend, Steph. She'd clearly found him physically attractive, but she'd shut that down quickly enough to assess him with clear eyes for Zara’s benefit, and she wasn’t as trusting. Sure, she’d made light of her protectiveness, like she’d been joking, but there had been a sharpness in her gaze, a slight tilt to her head as she’d studied him, that had his nightwalker senses tingling. Nothing major, but he would have to tread lightly around her for the time being.

He tucked that away as he slowed in front of Il Palo. The Italian restaurant had been a favorite of members of The Protectorate, and he slid the car neatly into a space in front.

"Feel like pasta?" he asked, unbuckling his belt and tugging the keys out of the ignition.

"I always feel like pasta," she said, seeming to perk up a little.

That was good. He didn't want her to be unhappy. Especially when he hoped to mix business with pleasure. They had some dark days ahead of them. Which was exactly why he’d decided to take her here, court her some. It was selfish as hell, but if he could tighten their bond, if they could share more experiences together before he blew her whole fucking world to bits, just maybe she would choose to stay with him after the dust settled.

He squashed the rising tide of guilt as he exited the car and got to her door just as she was getting out. The arc of electricity that leapt from her to him as he took her hand strengthened his resolve. She made him feel alive in every sense of the word.

Zara tossed her hair over one shoulder, sending the scent of her shampoo in his direction and he said a silent prayer for strength. Again, the pressure of his fangs against his gums increased. He could've drunk from one of the bags his kind all kept on hand to slake his thirst. But now that he'd found Zara, and he realized they belonged to one another, the thought sickened him. If she knew the truth about him and what he was forced to do to survive before he had a chance to try and fix it, she would hate him.

And he could suffer anything but that.

He made a mental note to contact Dr. Fenton the following morning for a status report. The little man was peculiar in every sense of the word, but there was no denying that he was a genius. He’d been largely responsible for the scientific advancements of their kind. If it hadn’t been for Fenton, nightwalkers would still be exploding into ash and dust at the merest hint of sunlight. Not to mention he’d been the one to find a cure for the viral outbreak that had raged its way through the vampire community back in ’08, nearly wiping them out. Surely if he was compelled in the right way, the good doctor could step up the pace to meet Gabriel’s request.

All Gabriel had to do was identify the right incentive.

He laid his hand on the small of Zara's back as he steered her into the restaurant. They were greeted by the bored-looking hostess who perked up when she saw him. He didn't encourage her attentions, offering only a clipped nod of greeting before curtly offering his name for their reservation.

Her smile dimmed and she was all business as she led them to the booth he'd requested off in a quiet corner, partially hidden by a row of potted palms.

"Your waiter will be right with you," the hostess murmured, before scurrying off.

Zara sat and he followed suit. She leaned in and shot him a grin. "That must get old after awhile."

"What's that?" he asked, settling back against his seat and shrugging off his coat.

"You know. Fighting the women off." She didn't seem jealous. In fact, she was definitely amused by the whole situation. "I get why they do it. Heck, if I didn't run you over, I probably would've done the same." She shimmied out of her coat as well and then shrugged. "You're a hard man to ignore, Gabriel."

Their server came to lay menus on the table and fill their water glasses before melting away.

"It's my size. People aren't used to seeing a guy as big as I am outside of a professional sports environment. It has nothing to do with me as a person,” he said dismissively.

"It might also have something to do with the fact that you're gorgeous."

He'd never been one to care about his looks. His daily routine consisted of showering and running his fingers through his hair. But hearing that Zara thought he was handsome gave him a marked sense of satisfaction.

"You're pretty gorgeous yourself," he said, willing himself not to picture her naked again. The memory of her sprawled on his bed had been torturing him since the second she'd left. Unable to sleep, he'd gotten up in the middle of the night to prowl around the house and plan. When he'd come back to his bedroom, he'd found her, buck naked and totally exposed. The blankets and sheets must have slipped off and there, bathed in moonlight, she lay, like the painting of an Italian master. Creamy, full breasts, curvy hips, trim, shapely legs.

His cock rose to push against the zipper of his pants and he squeezed his eyes closed at the memory.

How many times had he taken her in the past few days? A dozen? More?

And still, it wasn't enough. He was like a drunk and she was the last bottle of moonshine in town.

He picked up his water glass and took a long pull. It didn't do shit to quench his thirst. Nothing would until he was able to address the deeper problem.

"So tell me, what did you do today at work?" he asked, picking up the menu and glancing at it dispassionately. While he didn't need food to survive, some of it tasted good to him. The past few days, though, the only thing he wanted to taste was Zara.

"It was a pretty uneventful day. We had a lot of new books to process. Boring, but Steph and I try to make it fun." She leaned forward and laid her hands on the table, eyes gleaming. "Why don't you tell me about your day at work. It was probably much more interesting."

He eyed her for a long moment, taking in the pulse fluttering in her neck, and the slight flare of her nostrils. Sweet librarian Zara Matheson truly had been corrupted. No way would she ever have thought a BDSM club would've been a turn on for her, but here she was, asking for details.

Odds were, they'd never be able to go to Club Nitris again. Not if things went to plan. But maybe someday, somewhere, they could find a similar place to explore their passions.

Until then? He was confident he could keep her more than satisfied.

He reached out and trailed his index finger over the back of her wrist. "You're so far away. Why don't you come sit next to me and I’ll tell you all about it?"

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously and she seemed to be about to ask him a question, but then stopped herself. She tossed her napkin onto the table and stood, switching to sit in the booth next to him.

She settled next to him, and for the first ten minutes she sat there, he didn't touch her. Instead, he talked about his day at the job--glossing over the parts that he'd spent looking back through old texts and documents they kept hidden in the basement vault. She was an engaged listener and he loved talking to her, but on the other hand, he couldn't deny that part of his motive wasn't so pure.

Already, she was moving imperceptibly closer to him. Pressing her hip against his, and brushing her arm against his wrist every so often as they spoke. She would glance his way, head cocked, peeking at him from beneath thick lashes. He didn’t need to read her mind to know what she was thinking.

You asked me to come closer, so why aren't you touching me?

Which was exactly what he'd wanted. One of the things he'd missed most about sex for all those celibate years had been the anticipation. The time beforehand, where everything was still a question.

Would they?

Wouldn't they?

If so, when?

Would it be fast and hard, or slow and sweet?

When he'd been turned from a man into a nightwalker, that hot as hell uncertainty had all but disappeared. Maybe it was part of the reason he'd sworn off fucking in the first place. There was no mystery. If he wanted it, he got it. It became almost tedious, with no hunt or chase or variety besides the mechanics of it.

Now, though, with Zara next to him, filling his head with the smell of cherry blossoms? It all felt new again. He felt like he was thirty instead of one hundred and thirty.

He felt human.

He shoved aside the bittersweet thought, and leaned closer, reaching casually for the bread basket and brushing Zara's breasts with his forearm as he did.

Her tiny gasp ran through him like a shot, and his cock thickened even more. He issued himself a mental warning. No matter how smooth he was, there was no way they were having sex in the middle of the restaurant unless he wanted to hypnotize the entire place or get the cops called in. He needed to slow his roll and get his head right.

Zara. Make it all about Zara tonight.

He plucked a piece of bread from the basket and set it on his plate. After slathering it with butter, he tore off a small piece and held it out to her.

"Bite?"

Her lean throat worked and she wet her lips before leaning in to take it from his fingers. He nearly groaned when those pillowy soft lips brushed his thumb as she plucked the morsel from him with her teeth.

She chewed quietly and murmured her approval. "Really good."

He'd take her word for it, because the thought of eating anything but Zara held no appeal. He tugged off another piece of bread and held it out to her.

"I like feeding you," he muttered, his voice hardly more than a growl.

Her eyes went wide and glassy, and this time, when she leaned in, she moved slowly. Like she was underwater. She closed her lips over his fingers and tugged the bread from his grasp, but not before sweeping the tip of her tongue over his fingertips at the last second.

His brain was still wired like a human male, and the motion brought back a memory of the night before. She'd taken him into her mouth so deep he thought he was going to come on the spot. He managed to hold on, but only through sheer force of will, until she'd clutched at his hips, driving him ever deeper. Until the head of his cock was enveloped in the tight column of her throat. Then, it was over. He'd gritted out a string of curses and hot jets of liquid spurted from his aching, distended cock into her clutching throat. He'd held her fast against him, using her hair to anchor her in place, to take it all, but he needn't have bothered. She was loving it. Nipples hard and proud, branding his thighs as she whimpered encouragement around his girth. He could still feel the sweet bite of her fingernails digging into his flanks.

But that would have to wait. Instead, he focused his thoughts on what they
could
do.

And he couldn’t wait to--

"Have you decided what you’d like to eat?"

Their waiter hovered by the table, a smile wreathing his pleasant face. Gabriel resisted the vicious, animal-like urge to snap his neck on the spot and forced a polite smile, gesturing to Zara.

"Ladies first."

She still seemed half-dazed but nodded. "Yes, I'll have the pasta primavera, please. House dressing on the salad."