Master of the Night (5 page)

She opened her mouth only to close it again as she remembered the assorted cops she'd worked with over the years, in the FBI and out of it. “You know, you're right.” Erin canted him a look as he led her around the well-lit walkway. “So are you saying you're dangerous?”

“What do you think?”

She eyed his pirate smile. “I think you just may be the most dangerous man I've ever met.”

He didn't answer, but that smile took on a feral cast that made her heart kick in anticipation.

When Erin dragged her fascinated gaze away from his face, she saw the garden. “Now this,” she said, stopping to admire it, “really is a garden made for moonlight.”

White roses nodded in the night breeze, almost glowing in the light of the moon. Magnolias stood sentinel between the bushes, their spreading branches heavy with pale, waxy flowers. Creamy azaleas circled the bases of the great trees like drifts of snow, and lightning bugs flashed among them, putting Erin in mind of nocturnal fairies.

“I've got to ask,” she said, gesturing around them as they strolled among the trees. “Why design a garden to be viewed at night?”

“I'm too busy to use it during the day.” He smiled slightly.

They rounded a hedge to see a marble fountain in the shape of a wide, round bowl, backlit by stands of candles burning in tall, wrought-iron candlesticks. From the center of the fountain thrust a shape Erin first took for a stone obelisk. As they moved closer, she realized it was a sculpture of a woman's arm, extending upward from the water, holding a white marble sword. Streams of water rolled down the length of blade and arm, as if they had just thrust from beneath the water.

“The Lady of the Lake?”

He shrugged. “I've got a soft spot for Arthurian legend.”

On the other side of the fountain, they found a white comforter spread out on the grass, light from the surrounding candles spilling in golden pools across its padded surface. A bottle of champagne cooled in a silver ice bucket beside it.

“I gather this is the reason for that call to your housekeeper,” Erin said.

He turned to face her. “A woman like you deserves moonlight and the smell of beeswax and roses.”

She cocked her head. “You going for romance or seduction?”

“A little of both.” Champion caught her chin in his hand and tilted it up as he lowered his head. “I didn't want you in some impersonal hotel room. I wanted you here, like this.”

The moment his lips took hers, she realized he'd held back at the party. Champion kissed her with a starved intensity, using lips and tongue and teeth as if drinking life out of her mouth. He tasted of champagne and heated masculinity in a seductive combination that made her nipples tingle. A beat later his hands were on her, stroking gently at first, here the tip of a breast through her bodice, there the curve of her hip. When she moaned in surrender, he grew rougher by delicious degrees, cupping, squeezing, claiming her. All the while, he feasted at her mouth, his tongue dancing around hers, his teeth tugging gently on her lips.

Erin tore free to gasp in a breath. Her zipper whispered as he tugged it downward, the sound loud in the moonlit stillness. She started to reach for him, but he'd already caught the hem of her dress in both hands. He drew the skirt up until she felt the kiss of a cool breeze on the heated flesh of her butt. Then that same little gust teased her waist and breasts as he slowly bared them. She shuddered in need.

Finally Champion stepped back, her gown in his fist, his eyes drinking her in. She wore only a few bits of red lace and red spike-heeled Pradas, but he was still fully dressed in his elegant black tux. His green eyes looked pale and hungry in the moonlight as they explored every inch of her.

That look from any other man would have made Erin feel vulnerable and uncomfortable. But coming from Champion, it gave a sense of erotic power. She smiled, and suspected the expression had a taunting edge. “Like what you see?”

His mouth curled in that buccaneer smile. “Oh, yes.”

 

She looked like
one of Reece's more shameless midnight fantasies: miles of creamy leg sheathed in sheer stockings, a tiny triangle of a thong baring most of her lush hips, a red lace bra cupping the soft, full mounds of her breasts. The wind had pulled her hair from its neat French twist on the ride over, and long gold streamers curled around her shoulders. Her blue eyes shimmered at him, mysterious with that primal power women have. Her smiling mouth promised carnal pleasures.

Reece's cock ached. He wanted to snatch her against his body, sate himself in long greedy swallows and deep lunging thrusts. Instead he put a stranglehold on greed and gave her a practiced smile. He was not, he reminded himself, a barbarian. Even when he felt like one. He would make love to her slowly, giving her all the sweet pleasure she deserved for her unwitting gift of blood.

“You do realize you're overdressed.” With a roll of her hips, Erin moved toward him, slow and sexy, putting an edge on hunger that was already more than keen enough.

Reece didn't dare move. He was too close to the edge of his control.

Smiling into his eyes, she reached up with long, slender fingers and plucked at his bow tie. He looked down to watch, but his eyes were caught by the delicate quiver of her pale, full breasts. Her nipples peaked, tempting shadows behind the lace cups of her bra.

Erin slid his jacket off his shoulders. He had to relax his bunched muscles so she could pull it away. His dove-gray vest went next, slowly, after she'd plucked each pearl button free. Reece clenched his fists and let his head fall back, determined to savor the feeling of those long, clever fingers moving over his body through the barrier of his shirt. Such sweet torture.

He managed to cling to his self-control through the removal of his shirt. But then a hot female mouth closed suddenly around his left nipple, and the tether he had on his lust snapped with a mental
twang
.

He had Erin down on the comforter without quite knowing how he'd gotten her there.

Reece heard her hot purring laugh of approval as he dragged down the scarlet cups that kept him from her breasts. Her nipples jutted for him, hard and flushed rose. With a soft growl, he pounced, sucking the peak into his mouth.

Distantly he felt the sting of her crimson nails digging into his biceps, the sharp heel of one of her Pradas riding his backside. He didn't care, too swamped by the taste of her skin, the smell of her sexual cream, the pounding drum of her blood.

She was so damn ripe.

 

Erin gasped as
Reece suckled the aching tip of one breast, his tongue rolling the little peak against the edge of his teeth, then drawing it hard into his mouth. A cataract of glittering sensation poured down her nerves with each silken pull. She writhed under him, but he held her effortlessly still in the brawny cage of his arms.

“God, Reece!” she groaned. He rumbled a hungry sound back at her, but didn't release his drugging hold on her breast. One big hand moved up her body to claim her other breast, squeezing and stroking until she whimpered.

As if he'd been waiting for that soft signal, he wrapped his free hand in the fabric of her thong and ripped it away. She sucked in a breath, then released it in a strangled scream as his hand slid between her thighs.

Strong fingers probed her, slipping between her slick inner lips. Instinctively she grabbed the thick curve of his shoulders and held on tight. He delved into her slowly while he caressed and suckled, driving her into a fine erotic madness. She rolled her hips against his hand, tangling her fingers into his thick, curly hair and holding him close as he suckled her taut nipples.

Delicious as it was, though, it wasn't enough. She craved his thrusts, hungered to feel him drive into her. The pressure of that need built and built until she moaned, “God, Reece—now!”

He lifted his head and looked down at her, his eyes burning. “Not yet,” he said hoarsely. “I want you hotter than this.”

She gasped out a strangled laugh. “I'm not sure I'd survive being hotter than this!”

“Let's find out.” He pushed up onto his hands and knees and moved down her body to settle between her thighs. Catching her behind her knees, he lifted her legs and spread her wide.

Licking her dry lips, Erin propped herself up on her elbows to watch as Champion parted her lips with two fingers. He tilted his head, studying her wet flesh. “You're so pretty here,” he said softly. He inhaled, his eyes closing slowly. She saw him swallow. “It's been a very long time since I've had a woman like you.”

She laughed uncomfortably, instinctively rejecting the idea. It had far too much power. “That's kind, Champion, but you've probably got women throwing themselves at you everywhere you go.”

His eyes opened as he looked up at her over the length of her naked body, his gaze going fierce and narrow. She realized he didn't like having his word questioned. “Not like you.”

Eyes fixed on hers, he lowered his head. Erin found herself holding her breath.

The first pass of his tongue brought her arching off the comforter with a gasp. Over it, she could hear his groan of pleasure. As if the taste had snapped some fragile hold he'd had on control, he began devouring her, tonguing her creaming flesh, suckling her clit until she writhed. Desperate to give him everything, she lifted her legs, catching them behind the knee and spreading them wide. He growled a rough sound of approval and reached up around her body to find her breasts. As he licked, he squeezed and rolled her hard nipples, spurring her pleasure into a plunging gallop.

The climax took her by surprise. She gasped at the first explosion of searing delight, but it kept right on pulsing, consuming her entire nervous system with fire. Mindless, frenzied, she let go of her legs and threaded her fingers through his silken hair, holding on for dear life.

 

Reece savored Erin's
cry of pleasure as he lapped her cream like a greedy cat. The salty taste seemed to bypass his brain and wrap around his cock. The roots of his fangs throbbed.

When she finally went limp and stunned in the aftermath of orgasm, he rose to his knees and reached into his jacket, lying discarded by the quilt. He pulled out one of his condoms, tore the packet open with his teeth, and jerked the button of his fly open.

Freeing himself, he sheathed his aching erection with hands that shook. Magekind neither carried disease nor caught it, but he was damned if he'd expose her to his sperm. Though it never took less than three unprotected encounters to turn a Latent, it was always possible another vampire had left her Gift primed for somebody else's climax. And having the little Latent go Maja under him was one surprise he really didn't need.

She stirred, her eyes sliding reluctantly open. They widened deliciously at the sight of his condom-covered shaft jutting at her, hard and eager.

With a dark smile of anticipation, he mantled her soft, dazed body with his own.

Reece caught his
breath in anticipation as he slid his cock through her lips, found her slick opening. Throttling the need to simply impale her in one hard thrust, he slowly slid inside, savoring the way her tight, wet flesh gripped his shaft.

She arched under him. “Champion!”

“God, you're slick. And snug. And…” He lost the rest of the sentence in the sheer glory of her. He lowered himself until her sleek, naked body was crushed against his. Her legs wound around his hips as he braced himself on his elbows and began to pump. Looking down into her eyes, he watched her pleasure build with every slow thrust.

This was going to be a long, long ride.

 

God, he was
so damn big. Erin whimpered as Champion's thick shaft slid out of her in a long silken glide, only to pump inside again. She threaded her arms around him and held on tight, digging her nails into his satin skin. The muscles of his back felt like slabs of marble under her hands. She inhaled, breathing in his exotic scent, so different from any other man she'd ever known. There was a hint of musk beneath the tang of sweat, something that struck her as intensely erotic. Hungering for him, half crazed by the pleasure, she lifted her head and sought his mouth.

He kissed her back with a ravenous intensity, tongue thrusting deep even as he drove into her again and again, his hips slapping against hers. It struck her dimly that one of his corner teeth seemed longer than it should be, but she couldn't hold on to the thought in the face of the sensual storm he'd unleashed. She could feel another climax building like a storm on the horizon, the pressure deep and full inside her, growing with every lunging thrust.

So close. So…

 

She came again,
screaming into his mouth. Maddened, he released her soft lips and buried his face in the curve of her jaw, lunging harder.

Her pulse banged against his lips, thundered in his ears. Goaded, he sank his fangs deep. She made a soft, startled sound, then screamed again as if the little pain had intensified the pleasure, spurring it higher.

Reece scarcely heard as her blood flooded his mouth with that hot blaze he associated with Latents, like a shot of straight whiskey rolling over his tongue. He swallowed, careful not to drink too much, too fast. He didn't want her to black out.

Still feeding, he rolled over with her until she was spread over his body, impaled on his thrusting cock, his fangs in her throat. He wrapped one fist in her hair and caught her soft butt in the other, holding her still as he took her, intent on spinning the pleasure out, making it last as long as he could.

He knew it would end too soon, and then he'd never see her again. He didn't dare.

Reece knew he could easily become addicted to Erin.

 

She lay sprawled
and dazed across Champion's body as his cock shuttled in and out and he gave her what must be the world's biggest hickey. Somehow the slight, stinging pain made the pleasure that much greater. Her third orgasm of the night rolled over her in a lazy wave. Erin gasped. Champion arched and stiffened, driving to his full length, so deep she cried out yet again.

As she rose up through the glittering waves of pleasure, it occurred to her she was in trouble. And she really ought to care.

 

They'd parked around
the corner.

“You sure this is safe?” Avery asked, shifting in the passenger seat. “What if he feeds on her?”

Parker's smile had an unpleasantly lewd edge. “He probably will, but it won't hurt her even if he does. According to every source we've got on him, he never drinks more than a cup or so from his partners. And none of them has shown any adverse effects.”

“Yeah, but I still don't like the idea of just handing her over to him.” Avery drummed his fingers on one knee, restless and disturbed. “I've worked with Grayson too long to be comfortable with just letting some undead thing make a meal out of her. She's suffered enough.”

The agent snorted. “From what I've read about Champion, I doubt there's any suffering involved. Look, the man is a national hero. According to his dossier, he's spied in every war from the American Revolution to Iraq. He's not a monster.”

“So why in the hell are we planning to abduct him? Do you seriously think he's going to want to work for the government after that?”

“If we can figure out a way to make more vampires, it won't matter.” Parker's cold, pale eyes lit up with a fanatic's fervor. “We need more agents like Champion, Avery. You should see what he can do. There's a videotape of him punching through a steel door before taking out half a dozen men in thirty seconds, bare-handed. He's a phenomenal undercover agent. Sometimes it seems he can almost read minds, the way he can sense a lie or tell when people know more than they're saying. He speaks a dozen languages so fluently, he can pass for a native damn near anywhere he goes. He—”

“So why the hell are we planning to take our best agent out of service right when we need him most?”

Parker gave him a narrow look. “Because the President has decided the payoff is worth the risk.”

“What if the President's wrong?” Avery shook his head. “I know you've heard about the chatter we've been picking up. With these cults killing people all over the country, do we really need to be playing chicken with an intelligence asset like Reece Champion?”

“Yes, because we need more agents like him, and this could get them for us. What if somebody gets lucky and kills him? We need another vampire. Once he's changed Erin, she can produce more for us.”

Avery scrubbed a hand through his hair. Too much of this made no sense at all. “Wouldn't it be simpler just to ask him to recruit a few of his toothy friends?”

“He swears there aren't any.”

“He's lying. If there's one, there's more.”

“Probably, but we can't prove it.”

“Walk people in front of a mirror,” Avery said. “When you see somebody without a reflection, there's your boy.”

“That's a myth. So are most of the other legends about vampires.” Parker rubbed his thumb against his lower lip, his expression brooding. “He's got no problem with crosses, holy water, or garlic, either. He sleeps during the day, but I don't think he bursts into flame in sunlight. So…”

“But we think if he has sex with Erin, he could change her?”

Parker shrugged. “That's what he's implied. On December twenty-first of last year, to a Corporal Thomas Rysentat. Who reported the conversation to his superiors.” As if reciting a report from memory, he quoted, “When I saw Agent Champion turn into a wolf and turn back again with his injuries healed, I told him I wanted to become a vampire. He said, ‘You're not my type.' I said, ‘So becoming a vampire is a sex thing?' and he said ‘yes.'”

“So just on the basis of some kid's testimony, we're going to kidnap a vampire and force him to go to bed with my agent?” Avery grimaced. “Oh, she's going to just love this.”

“I suspect the idea will grow on her.” Parker smirked. “Champion's got a way with women.”

“Assuming he cooperates.”

“Oh, he'll cooperate. Once we get him locked up, he won't have a choice.”

“Yeah, right.” He snorted. “So why have I got this mental image of myself on CNN, saying, ‘I'm sorry, Senator, I do not recall.'”

Parker shrugged. “One way or another, Avery, we've both got our orders.” Suddenly he lifted his head, an arrested expression crossing his face. “And I think that's my cue.”

“What's your cue?” Avery demanded as the FBI agent swung open the driver's door and got out. “Parker, what the hell are you doing?”

 

Reece cradled Erin
in his arms, licking delicately at the small wounds he'd left in her throat. Now that he'd finished drinking from her, healing agents flooded his saliva, giving it a brassy taste. By morning, the marks of his fangs would have faded until she'd probably mistake them for mosquito bites.

He just needed to keep her away from mirrors in the meantime.

She moaned and stirred against him, a limp, warm weight in his arms. He'd taken no more than a cup from her, not enough for her to even notice. Still, he could sense she felt dazed and weak from the intensity of their passion.

So did he.

“Oh, God,” Erin groaned softly against his chest. “You're lucky the word hasn't gotten around about you.”

He stiffened. “Oh?”

She coiled her arms around him. “Yeah,” she said sleepily. “Women would be raping you in the street.”

Reece grinned and cuddled her, enjoying the way she lay over him like a sleepy kitten. “Glad you approve, milady.”

“Approve? You could say that.” She yawned. “You could also say Hurricane Hugo was a storm. It's true, but the term doesn't quite capture the full effect.”

He laughed, thinking again how damn much he liked her. Her wit and intelligence were every bit as appealing as that lush little body.

It was a damn shame he'd never see her again.

Maybe he could mention her to the Majae's Council. She'd make a worthy addition to the ranks. And then he could…

Suddenly the wind shifted. Reece stiffened at the scent it carried before pushing Erin off him and onto the comforter. Naked, a snarl curling his lips, he sprang to his feet.

“Whoa, there, big guy.” A man stepped from the shadows of a hedge. As Reece whirled on him and prepared to leap, he flipped open a badge case. “Steven Parker, FBI.”

As Reece stopped short, a tall black man hurried up to join the blond, his expression harried. “Parker, what the hell are you doing?” The hissed whisper carried clearly to Reece's vampire ears.

Parker jerked a thumb at the other man. “Agent James Avery with the Office of Foreign Analysis.”

The Outfit. Reece's frown deepened. He'd heard of it. A very small counter-terrorist agency loosely connected to the FBI, specializing in black ops.

But what the hell were they doing here?

Quickly he stooped to pick up his pants, aware that Erin had flipped the comforter over herself and was trying to dress under its concealment. He could almost feel the heat of her furious embarrassment from where he stood. “This isn't a good time, gentleman. What do you want?”

“Just trying to confirm a theory,” Parker said, smiling easily as he strolled across the lawn toward them. “Even though you were wearing protection, I could feel the power stirring in Agent Grayson.”

“Agent Grayson?” He repeated, and frowned as the second part of the agent's sentence sank in. “What power?”

“Parker!” the black agent hissed.

“Didn't she mention it?” The blond smiled pleasantly. “She's Outfit, too. And a Latent, unless I miss my guess. We thought she might be.”

Reece stared at him in shock, his mind working frantically. Jesus, who'd told them about Latents? This was a major security breech. The High Council was going to have a mass stroke.

As he struggled to work through the implications, Erin scrambled to her feet, dressed again in her snug red gown. Fighting with her zipper, she snapped, “Avery, who the hell is this guy? What are you doing here?”

Parker smiled at her pleasantly, clapping a hand on the big man's shoulder as he reached into his lapel with one hand. “Actually, he's getting ready to die.”

Before even Reece could react, the blond jerked out a knife and plunged it between his partner's ribs. Avery choked out a gasp, his eyes going wide. He toppled.

Erin's scream rang across the garden. “Avery!”

Reece didn't look back as he shot toward the two like an arrow from a bow, intent on taking Parker down. He'd crossed the twenty feet separating them and was reaching for the blond when the agent threw up both hands.

Reece glimpsed a violent flash of manifesting magic just before he slammed into an invisible wall. The impact drove the air from his lungs. Before he could suck in another breath, something closed around his body and snatched him off his feet.

“What the hell?” He struggled to free himself, but the spell held him suspended like an ant in honey. Instinctively he started to look around for the Maja who'd caught him.

And glimpsed Parker's hands. Hands surrounded by a familiar magical nimbus.

Impossible!
Reece thought, shocked.
Men don't become Majae.

Then he remembered his conversation with Lance and Grace earlier in the night: the Council's conviction that the Death Cultists were using magic without a Maja's involvement.

Oh, hell,
Reece thought as the bottom dropped out of his stomach.
This isn't good.

The grin on Parker's face was wide and white and not entirely sane. “God, what a buzz. I get a power spike from any killing, but nothing gives quite the same charge as murdering somebody who trusts you. I feel like I could light up Atlanta.”

“Geirolf!” Erin spat furiously. “It's you, isn't it, you son of a bitch?”

Reece twisted around in the spell until he was able to catch a glimpse of her from the corner of one eye. She hovered three feet off the ground, caught in the same kind of mystical power field that had trapped him.

Her expression was contorted with rage as she sneered, “So you've given up the demon scam in favor of passing yourself off as FBI?”

Parker laughed. “Actually, I'm not Geirolf. Though I'm flattered you'd think I was. And he's not a demon.” His eyes glinted. “He's a god.”

“You're also not FBI,” Reece growled. “What the hell are you?”

“Oh, to the contrary, I'm definitely FBI,” Parker said, strolling closer. “In fact, I work for Mike Richards.”

Reece's counterintelligence contact. The light dawned. “You're the mole.”

“And you would have made me the minute you laid eyes on me in Mike's office,” Parker agreed cheerfully. He looked at Erin. “Almost as fast as they made
you
when you joined Death's Sabbat. The disguise was good, baby, but you can't fool a god.”