Master of Darkness (4 page)

She made a dramatic gesture of wiping the
back of her hand across her mouth. “You didn't save me.”

“I saved your car.”

“Then kiss the car.”

“I'd rather drive.”

“No.” She slid past him into the front seat. She had the car started and in gear by the time he got into the passenger's seat. “Fasten your seat belt.” She hated that desire seethed in her as much as anger, and her voice sounded rough with emotion. “Where to?”

“Somewhere dark.”

“Couldn't we start following what few leads I have?”

“I need some rest. It's near daylight,” he added.

“Couldn't I just drop you at your place?”

“Of course not. No way I'm going to be tracked home by crazed Dawn addicts. You shouldn't return to your home, either. You do have a warded safe house set up for this operation, right?”

She did, but she was reluctant to bring a vampire who had just kissed her there. “Why do you need somewhere dark to rest?” she asked suspiciously.

“Because I don't use the daylight drugs.”

She'd suspected as much. “Damn.”

“Sorry if it inconveniences you.”

“Inconveniences me? If you can't go out in the light, how much help are you going to be to this operation?”

“I work by night just fine.”

At least she didn't hear any double entendres in his tone. In fact, he sounded bone-weary. And she supposed arguing with him about his lifestyle choice wasn't going to do them any good.

She knew from reading intelligence reports that taking the drugs or not was a choice each Clan and Family vampire made for themselves. There was still controversy and dissent among the vampires about the daylight drugs, even though they'd been available for decades. Some of the vampires didn't think the cocktail of chemicals was safe. Some thought they changed the fundamental nature of what it meant to be a vampire. Some were just old-fashioned.

The other cars had left the lot, and she thought she heard police sirens in the distance. The time for their getaway was almost overdue. At the mall entrance she paused for a moment to look around. She saw no vampires, cops, or civilians. The only creature in sight was a huge black dog sitting beneath a streetlamp. It turned
its head to watch her as she took a right and drove quickly away.

Interesting, Joe thought as the vampire hunter drove off. The woman was alert and had even noticed him, but the vampire with her was already napping. He took a moment to scratch behind his ear, then he stood, stretched, and took a long, deep sniff of air. Exhaust fumes were the dominant scent, but he was used to that. The evening air in the city was rife with many other aromas. He could stand here breathing it all in and analyzing for hours, but werewolves who gave in to that temptation in busy urban areas tended to end up in the pound.

And it was embarrassing to have to be rescued by one's relatives. It had happened before, though not to him. The possibility of needing aid was the reason he often left his clothes in a safe hiding place, but he always wore a gold chain with a cartouche-shaped medallion etched with his name and a phone number around his neck.

There were a great many vampires in town at the moment, not all of them friendlies. In fact, most were the sort that smelled bad. It was a psychic aura more than a physical scent, but the result still left a nasty residue on werewolf
senses. Joe wondered if the vampires knew that each type had their own distinct scent. From inbreeding, he supposed.

It was similar with the human hunters. It hadn't taken him long to sniff out the essence that marked her kind. It was nice to discover that she'd hooked up with a competent Clan Prime.

The one with the human hunter smelled like a Wolf, mostly. There was a hint of something else clinging to the Prime. But he'd been in a fight with the Tribe boys, so it was possible that he had some Tribe scent on him left over from the scuffle.

All Joe knew for certain was that the vampire was not Sid Wolf. But that was all right. He'd been concerned Sid would get involved in something that wasn't company business when they were so shorthanded. He'd wanted to make sure that wasn't the case, so he could talk Sid out of it if he had to.

Joe figured that Sid had called in a cousin to work on this assignment. Joe didn't want his partner to have anything to do with this drug case, even if Sid was all into this Clan honor stuff.

He was satisfied that the situation was covered. Sid would show up at the office of Bleythin
Investigations on Monday morning, and they could get back to working missing-persons cases.

Joe yawned and trotted back toward where he'd parked his car. Being in wolf form took a lot of energy, and it had been a long night for him, too. It was time for him to go home and get some sleep.

Chapter Four

“C
ome here, little girl.”

She threw a lamp at him, plunging the room into darkness
.

“You forget that I can see in the dark?”

“Don't come near me!”

She was pressed up against a wall of the windowless room. There was a bed between them, but the door was to his back. There was no way she was getting out. The only place she was going was on her back, with him on top of her. In her. That was going to be sweet. But he was going to play for a while first. It had been a long time since he'd been completely in control. He wanted her body and her blood, but breaking her spirit was going to come first
.

“Blood slave,” he said. “You know the term. I'm going to make you mine.” He held up a hand
.

“Please
don't
tell me you'd rather die first.”

“I don't do clichés,” she answered, as she looked around for anything to use as a weapon
.

“You're a killer,” he reminded her. “You're going to pay for that.”

He was on her in the next heartbeat. He felt her heart beneath his hand, felt its hard, frantic flutter under soft skin and fragile bone. Blood drove through it in a panicked rush. Her fear was a sweet tangy scent, better than perfume, better than anything—but blood. And sex
.

“Eden,” he said, and stroked her short hair before running his claws ever so gently down her throat and over her breasts. He ripped her shirt to shreds but left no mark on her. But the fear of what he could do marked her soul, and it was delicious
.

He licked his lips, then her throat. He tasted the salt of sweat and savored the heat of her skin and her pulse under his tongue. He let his fangs grow hard, slowly pierced fear-heated flesh, licked the wound, then suckled. Her body arched against his, helpless against the pleasure. She moaned, low and frantic. He laughed, forcing the sound into her mind, knowing that she hated what he made her feel
.

“It's only going to get worse,” he told her, and laid her on the bed
.

He didn't taste her again. In fact, he let the
blood desire die down before he touched her again. When he slid his hands over her, it was as a man touching a woman. He luxuriated in the feel of warm, smooth skin, of curves and shadows, the play of muscle. He took in scent and texture. Everything he did was to please himself. She belonged to him, and it pleased him to learn every inch of what was his. If he used his skill to arouse—well, that was her problem to deal with. It didn't matter to him if her body wanted what her mind hated
.

Her hatred was an aphrodisiac
.

When he almost couldn't hold on anymore, he bit into his wrist. When the blood was flowing, he held her head to the small wound and wouldn't let her go until he was sure she'd swallowed a few drops. Only a little for now, just enough to start the craving
.

When she gasped from the new fire running through her, he pushed her back on the bed and entered her. He drove into her hard and fast, making sure she knew it was his cock she served
.

For now
.

Forever
.

Laurent woke hard as a rock, and with a headache that felt like somebody had just
dropped a ton of lava into his head. He felt around quickly, finding the bed empty. He could barely lift his head to look, but the room was empty as well.

Thank God for that!

It had only been a dream. Some horrible nightmare. One that left him aroused and covered in sweat. He flopped back down on the pillow, eyes tightly shut. The pain in his head was so bad, he wasn't sure if he was even up to jacking off. He took deep, steady breaths, working to get his body calm and his head clear.

What had
that
been about? Eden Faveau hadn't pissed him off enough for him to want to play those kind of games with her. Sex, yeah, but rape—?

But wasn't that what he was supposed to want—a harem of devoted blood slaves? That shouldn't have been a nightmare; it was supposed to be every Tribe Prime's fondest dream. That kind of rape was what he
should
fantasize about. Instead, he woke up frightened and disgusted.

Justinian was right. He didn't have what it took to be a Prime.

Laurent snarled into the darkness, hating the pack leader who might be his sire. And hating himself.

Or maybe it was the headache he hated. His ability to self-heal was toning the pain down, but it wasn't completely going away. What was with that?

His senses told him it was midday, but a heavy curtain covered the bedroom's small window. So it wasn't sunlight causing the pain. Of course, there was silver, garlic, and hawthorn wood placed all over the small apartment. He had allergies to all of them, and other various herbs and stuff. The concentration of substances might be the problem, added to the fact that he couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten any real rest. Vampires didn't need to sleep often, but when they did …

“What the—?” he muttered at the sound of a voice coming from the living room, just as he was about to fall back asleep.

He sensed only Eden in the place, so she must be on the phone. Laurent scrubbed his hands over his face and concentrated. Even with the headache and several doors between them, his hearing was good enough to make out Eden's voice if he tried.

“—don't think the local vampire community is taking the threat seriously. Or maybe it's a lack of respect for us. How are we supposed to work on this case twenty-four/seven”—she
paused to yawn—“if the Prime assigned to it doesn't even take the daylight drugs? And does that pose a security risk? We've assumed that use of the drugs tones down the vampire's natural violent tendencies. Still, I have to admit that I have yet to see any unstable or violent tendencies exhibited by Wolf. I'm the one who insisted he attack the Tribe members in the parking lot; he was in favor of a strategic retreat. When he did use force, it was quite efficient, but flashy. He drew attention to our presence. They're not supposed to do that.”

She paused.

By this time Laurent had figured out that his human partner was dictating some sort of report. He started to doze off again.

Then she said, “He kissed me. I liked it.”

Of course you did
. He smiled. Maybe he should do it again. He remembered his dream and shook his head. Though he planned on seducing her, now wasn't the best time.

“I suppose the reaction was telepathically induced.”

It was not!

“But since I have no psychic talent, the effect was not as strong as it would have been on someone gifted. Knowing his seductive abilities will help arm me against them in the future.”

Sweetheart, you ain't seen nothing yet
.

“He isn't what I thought a vampire would be like. For one thing, he seems to have some sympathy for the Tribe members that are using Dawn. He almost made me see that they have a point of view. And one should never look at the world from the monster's point of view.”

Yeah, if you do that you might not see them as monsters anymore. Of course, we are monsters, but we have a point of view
.

“He doesn't behave in the way I've been briefed that a Clan Prime would act.”

I'll have to work on that
.

“He's not particularly haughty or arrogant or insistent on everything being done his way. There are flashes of machismo, but they're leavened with humor. One of the things that disturbs me is how much I enjoyed talking to him. He's—quirky.”

Quirky? What the hell kind of way is that to describe a Prime? Madam, I am evil
.

“I'm not sure if that's good or bad. Bad, if it impacts the case. Bad for me even if it doesn't, because I'm always attracted to quirky. I'll have to work harder to keep my distance. That will mean concentrating more on resisting him, when all my attention should be on the job.”

She sighed, and he heard the tape rewinding.
Apparently Eden was preparing to start over with a bit less personal commentary.

“The zapper is running at full strength,” she began.

He had no idea what this meant, and didn't care. He went back to sleep, resisting the temptation to eavesdrop by putting a pillow over his head.

“I learned how to pick the lock,” he said
.

The beautiful woman turned around and smiled, though her gaze went worriedly to the door before it returned to him. She'd been cupping the heavy glass paperweight she'd told him came from Venice. She said it came from a before time and was her favorite thing, but for him
.

She put it down and held out her arms, and he rushed into them. “Laurent, my little wolf cub.”

Her embrace was strong and warm, and she smelled wonderful. She was careful to keep the silver chains binding her from touching him. She had always worn the chains; they were a part of her. When he'd asked her about the pain, she'd laughed. The sound had been as light as a feather, but he'd known it was false
.