Lover's Bite (2 page)

 

After she left Jack's room, Topaz held her head in her hands and waited for the hunger that had suffused her veins to ease, for the trembling that had possessed her body to stop. She wanted him. God, she wanted him so badly it was like an addiction.

She knew he was no good. And yet she wanted him. No good for her, and no good, period. And yet she ached for him. He was a con man. And yet she hungered for his kiss. If she fell back into those strong arms again, knowing what she knew about him, then she was the most pathetic, self-destructive, stupid woman on the planet. And she was determined to be none of those things.

“You okay?”

She lifted her head and met Roxy's eyes. Roxy. The wild, irreverent, redheaded mortal whose age was fathomless. The belladonna antigen in her blood, the hallmark of the only humans with the potential to become vampires, made it unlikely she would live nearly as long as she already had, but she showed no signs of slowing down. Roxy. The most trusted mortal Topaz could imagine. One of the sexiest, most beautiful women of any age she'd ever seen. And easily the wisest.

“You still love that asshole, don't you?” Roxy asked, coming to a stop very close to her in the hallway.

“That would make me a complete idiot, and I'm not an idiot, Roxy.”

“No, you're not. But we can't always help how we feel.”

“I can. I'm the least likely person in the world to fall for a con in the first place, much less twice by the same person. No way.”

“Well, good. Don't let him con you again.” Roxy shrugged. “Doesn't mean you can't enjoy him, though.” She glanced toward Jack's closed door. “Hell, if I didn't know you were into him, I might give him a tumble myself. 'Course, that would spoil him for all other women, but you know, some things can't be helped.” She winked at Topaz.

Topaz smiled, grateful for Roxy's always uplifting influence. “Is everyone else in the van already?”

“Vixen and Seth are—probably making out in the back, if I know those two. Raphael's on his way. The devil only knows about Briar. I haven't told Ilyana about the meeting yet. On my way to do that right now, actually.”

“Let's tell her together.”

Roxy nodded, and the two of them strolled down the hall of the Super 8 Motel, toward the room the newcomer, Ilyana, had taken. They'd found the mortal—one of the Chosen, like Roxy, though far younger—locked in a cage in Gregor's suite during their latest encounter with the rogue vampire. They'd rescued her, but she was afraid of them, and no wonder, if that monster had been her only experience with the undead. She'd told them almost nothing. Not why he'd held her captive, nor for how long. Topaz could only imagine what she might have suffered while in Gregor's care, though she bore no illusions that it had been less than horrific.

Roxy tapped on the door. “Ilyana, it's Roxy.”

The door opened and the mortal, with her pixie-short platinum-blond hair and striking blue eyes, stared out at the two of them. Her eyes were warm and welcoming on Roxy's, but when they fell upon Topaz, they cooled considerably. “What do you want?” she asked.

“Group meeting,” Roxy told her. “We're gathering in the van.”

Ilyana searched Roxy's face, her gaze occasionally darting past it to Topaz's, but never lingering there. She was still wary. “Are we giving up the search for Gregor?” she asked at length.

“Taking a break, maybe. Giving up? No way. Raphael is way too stubborn for that,” Roxy said.

Nodding, Ilyana turned. “I'll gather my things. Give me a few minutes.”

“That's fine.” Roxy pulled the door closed, and linked arms with Topaz. “You know, he's got it just as badly as you do.”

“Who's got what?” Topaz asked, pretending she didn't know exactly what Roxy was trying to say.

“He—”
Roxy pointed toward Jack's room “—has got
it—
” she pumped her fists at her sides and thrust her hips a couple of times “—for
you.
” She poked Topaz in the chest with a forefinger. “Just as badly as
you—
” poke “—have
it—
” thrust “—for
him.
”

“Okay, okay. I get it. Enough with the pantomime already. It's creepy.”

Roxy frowned. “Men usually find it more sexy than creepy, but I suppose being a straight girl—”

“And you're wrong. He doesn't feel a damn thing for me.”

“Not even…” Roxy pumped her hips again, more subtly this time, though.

“Well, sure,
that.
I mean, who wouldn't?”

“Exactly.”

“But that's physical. He'd jump my bones if I'd let him. He'd also just as soon take my money and run again as look at me.”

“Then why do you suppose he's here?” Roxy stared into Topaz's eyes for a long moment, almost as if she expected an answer to what she had to know was an impossible question. “He already took the money,” she went on. “So why hasn't he run?”

“He only came back to me when it looked like our gang was going to kick his gang's ass.”

“He could have gone anywhere to get away from Gregor and the rogues, Topaz. He didn't have to join up with us. I think you should keep that in mind.”

“Probably figured I had a few bucks left in the bank he hadn't scammed yet. Or maybe he's planning to run a con on one of you.”

Roxy lifted her brows and looked over her shoulder toward his room. “Hot damn, it would be worth it. I wonder how much is in my IRA by now?”

“Fuck you, Roxy.”

Roxy grinned from ear to ear. “I don't swing that way, Topaz. Though I compliment you on your taste in women.”

Topaz felt her frown dissolve as she elbowed Roxy lightly in the rib cage, and the two of them laughed together as they made their way across the dark motel parking lot toward a canary-yellow conversion van named Shirley.

 

Jack waited until everyone else had headed out to the van to slip out of his room and down the hall to Topaz's. He picked the locks with the power of his mind, hand on the knob, ear to the door, willing the tumblers to, well, tumble. When they did, he opened the door and walked inside.

Her things were packed and her cases stacked. A half dozen of them, at least. Designer luggage, all of it matching, made by Coach. He thought they only made handbags and shoes. And those cost a fortune. What must an entire set of Coach
luggage
have set her back?

Damn, he must have left too much of her money behind if she could still afford to blow it like this.

Sighing, he gazed at the rumpled blankets, and his throat closed up. She hadn't made her bed—left that for the maid, along with a hefty tip on the nightstand to thank her for her trouble. The covers were untidy and thrown back to reveal the faint outline of her body on the mattress, the imprint of her head on the pillow.

Damn.

Before he could stop himself, Jack was crawling onto that bed, pressing his face to the place where she'd rested, inhaling her scent, and wishing it were her flesh he was lying on and not just her bed.

Intoxicating, the essence of Topaz that lingered there.

He sat up, put his hands in his hair and tousled it vigorously. “Snap out of it, Jack.”

It was easier said than done, but he did manage to roll over and get off her bed and onto his feet. He reminded himself of his reason for being there, and the fact that the others were probably waiting for him in the van and might send someone looking for him at any moment. Okay, then. He slid the DVD into one of her bags and exited the room, making sure the door locked behind him.

He stiffened his spine, hoped his yearning didn't show on his face, and then thought, so what if it did? He wanted her, that was all. It was physical. Sexual. Lustual, if that was a word. And if it wasn't, it should be, because it described to a T what he felt for the luscious, lovely Topaz-formerly-known-as-Tanya DuFrane, daughter of a movie star.

A dead movie star.

He headed along the hall to the exit, crossed the parking lot and joined the others in the van, climbing in through the already open side door and giving the interior a quick visual sweep. The back row of seats held Vixen and Seth, sitting so close together you could have fit a lumberjack on either side of them, but instead only Ilyana sat there. In the front seat, Reaper sat on the passenger side, Roxy behind the wheel, just like always. The middle row was host to Briar, who sat there with the same brooding, inwardly focused expression she'd been wearing since they pried Gregor's shock collar off her neck. Prior to that she'd been wild, fighting them every step of the way, hissing and scratching at every opportunity like a feral cat. She'd been dangerous, untrustworthy and probably bad right to her soul. And frankly, he had preferred that to this…this shell.

He supposed she would snap out of it sooner or later. And he would lay odds they would all be wishing her back to this state of silent brooding once she did.

Beside Briar sat the object of his desire. Topaz. He met her eyes briefly, just to remind her that she felt it, too—this longing, this hunger—that she felt it and he knew it, and she knew he knew it. No use tiptoeing around the facts.

Finally he lowered himself onto the seat between the two women.

“About time,” Topaz muttered.

Briar said nothing. She'd had very little to say since they'd rescued her from Gregor, who'd been torturing her the same way she'd personally helped him to torture Vixen. Reversal of fortune, big-time. It tended to mix a girl up, he bet.

Her eyes were haunted.

He couldn't help but chuck her under the chin just a little. “Don't look so glum, wildcat. Gregor had us both fooled.”

She lifted her black eyes to his, but they never locked on. “He never fooled you,” she said. Her voice was dull. A monotone that echoed from lack of emotion, the way an empty room echoed from lack of furniture. “You knew what he was the whole time. You were just playing him.”

He shrugged. “Well, I've been around longer than you have. You live and learn, you know.” Then, uncomfortable with the turmoil swirling just beneath the surface of her eyes, he shifted his focus to Reaper. “What's up? We throwing in the towel?”

“Only temporarily. Until I get a handle on where Gregor has headed, there's no point in us all staying together.”

“Nor any particular point,” Seth cut in, leaning forward in the rear seat, “in us splitting up.” He looked around the van. “Is there?”

Just as the others were muttering in agreement, Reaper said, “There is, actually. I, um…I believe I'm being followed.”

Jack gasped louder than any of them. Hell. Probably overkill. Topaz cut him a narrow-eyed look, but he pretended not to notice. “By whom?” he demanded.

“I don't know for sure, but they seem awfully familiar to me.”

“You think they're spooks?” Seth asked.

“No one says ‘spooks' anymore, kid.” Reaper swallowed hard, then nodded. “But yeah. I think they're Agency. They can be dangerous, and there's no point in all of us being at risk.”

Roxy smacked the steering wheel. “Right. You'll just send us on our merry way while you take the heat alone,” she snapped. “And if you get your ass killed, then no great loss.”

He glanced her way, and his eyes softened. “Rox, I'm not gonna get my ass killed. I'll drop out of sight for a while. Lay low until the heat's off. And it'll be a hell of a lot easier for me to do that without a half dozen soldiers, no matter how loyal, marching along behind me. Don't you think?”

She sighed—probably, Jack thought, in frustration that she couldn't argue with his logic.

“So you're not going to continue tracking Gregor?” The question came from Ilyana, who sat close behind Jack.

“Oh, I'm going to. Just quietly and discreetly. I might lie low for a few days before I put forth too much effort, though, just to try to shake these agents off my tail.”

Everyone looked at him, Ilyana, waiting, as if she didn't think he was finished. He hesitated, then went on. “Look, Gregor admitted he was working for the CIA. His rogue activities had a purpose. He and his gang have been murdering and feeding on the innocent with the full knowledge, approval and support of the Agency, all just to lure me in. Everyone knew I was the one the vampires would send to shut him down, to take him out.”

“Because you were an assassin when you worked for them,” Ilyana said, her voice soft. “Before you became a vampire.”

“Yes. And because they're aware I've continued in that role, when necessary, ever since,” Reaper told her. “Gregor was supposed to capture me and hand me over to my former employers. But he got greedy, decided to try to drain me and take my power instead, then kill me.”

Jack nodded. “I picked up on that much before I switched teams,” he said. “Gregor developed a real lust for killing, for taking whatever he wants without remorse or repercussions. And he's been gathering money along the way. You feed on the wealthy, you tend to make a profit in the process. He's been raking it in, pillaging, really. And I think he's drunk on his power. All he wants is more.”