Nightwalker (13 page)

A myriad of expressions passed over his face: uncertainty, indecision, anger, hunger, then finally fear.
She knew then that Laeyar had no connection to Raithe, had no idea how to locate him.

“Why would you feed a creature like that anyway? Keeping him for a pet?” Takala had a suspicion that the snake shifter was using his connection with Raithe to force Laeyar to feed him.

“He is good to have around,” Laeyar said casually, pretending to pick at a hangnail.

“But eats a lot.”

Laeyar lost his temper and glared at her. “That is my business, since I feed him. And you needn't worry about it now, anyway. I will not trouble Raithe with you, word on the street or not. You are our dinner.” He heaved himself up off his keg throne and walked toward her, sniffing the air like a hungry wolf. “And I'll be the first to have you.”

The young girl, the twins, and 666 were aroused by his words and gathered behind him, their fangs jutting, bloodlust in their eyes. They stared at her like she was dessert.

“Hurry, Laeyar, and leave some for us,” 666 said.

Laeyar's fangs jutted out and over his fat lips, and he was on her in a blink.

Takala felt the saliva of his tongue, the tips of his fangs on her neck.

O
ut of the corner of her eye, Takala saw a blur. Then Laeyar's head twisted to an impossible angle as his neck snapped. His body toppled to the floor, and she stared into Striker's severe face. She was never so glad to see anyone in her life. He didn't look at all happy to see her.

The vampires realized he was there and had killed their leader. They attacked him from every angle.

Striker moved so fast she only caught glimpses of his face and hands.

The young girl disappeared into the shadows, but 666 and the twins were bolder.

There was no contest. Even at three-to-one odds, Striker downed them with the methodical precision of a master predator. A whirlwind blur of savage force. Vampires fell like dominoes. She knew they would rise
again, because Striker hadn't decapitated or staked them. He had only inconvenienced them.

When the carnage ended, he materialized in front of her, eyes dark and cloudy, deep in defensive mode.

“Are you all right?” His gaze took in every inch of her.

“Timed it kinda close, didn't you?” She teased him with a trembling grin.

“It took me a moment or two to find the trail of blood you left.”

“I knew you'd pick up the scent,” she said confidently. “Wait a minute. How long have you been here?”

“Awhile.”

“And you almost let that cretin kill me.”

“You were never in any danger. And I wanted to hear how far you would go in bargaining away my life.”

“I only did it—”

“To help catch Raithe, I know. You were quite convincing at times.” His purple eyes shimmered with amusement. He pulled on the manacles, and they burst with a loud clank.

“I tried to break those chains, but couldn't.” She rubbed her wrists. “How much stronger are you than me?”

“No contest.” He eyed her in that charming way he had that set the butterflies fluttering in her gut. Then he swept her up into his arms.

She couldn't get over the fact he'd picked her up like she weighed no more than a toothpick. She was no lightweight. She'd never had a guy do the Rhett Butler sweep before. Even as strong as Akando was, he couldn't pick her up. He'd tried once and hurt his back. He had
spent hours in an emergency room, downing muscle relaxers.

She liked playing Scarlett to his Rhett Butler. It made her feel delicate and awkward, and to her chagrin, very, very feminine. It was like trying on a new dress that fit perfectly. And the butter-rum, clean-linen smell of him was driving her a little crazy. She found herself wrapping her arms around his neck and laying her head against his cheek.

She breathed him in and forced her mind off her unruly libido and back on the business at hand. “Laeyar didn't even know Raithe, but I guess you figured that out.”

“Right away.”

“Looks like we've reached a dead end.”

A door closed above their heads. The sound echoed down the stairs.

“That must be the girl escaping.” Takala glanced up the dark staircase that Striker approached. “Are we going to follow her?”

“No. The others will find her when they come around. She is a neophyte, not much of a problem. She will probably feed on dogs or rats.”

Takala made a face and said, “You do have a heart when it comes to some vampires. Admit it.”

“I just do not have the time or the manpower to track her down.”

Takala wasn't buying that. He had a soft spot for the young girl. She glanced down at the limp pale bodies on the floor. “Are you just going to let them continue to kill?”

“No, I have already called the French director and
alerted him about their behavior. He'll see they are policed.”

“The French have a supernatural bureau, too?”

He nodded and said, “The Département d'affaires Supernaturelles, French Department of Supernatural Affairs. It is as efficient as the B.O.S.P.”

“Where are we?” Takala glanced up the stairwell as he carried her up it.

“The basement of an abandoned store.”

He reached the top of the stairs, and they were inside. A streetlight shone through the broken boards that were supposed to be securing the building. She could see graffiti and holes covering the broken plaster walls. Grocery cases lay overturned and smashed. The windows were boarded up, but some of the boards, like the door, were jagged or missing. An air of empty gloominess fanned the abandoned building. Considering who took up residence in the basement, she hoped it would be torn down.

She should ask Striker to let her walk, but at the moment she felt secure in his arms. He could have carried her anywhere and she wouldn't have protested.

He easily maneuvered through the holes in the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The area seemed quiet, save for a few druggies on a corner.

She felt his blond ponytail thick beneath her forearm. What would it be like to run her fingers through his hair again? She remembered it being soft as silk, not coarse and lifeless as she thought it would be. She watched the streetlight shimmering through it, mesmerizing her. Then she recalled his lips on hers, and heat poured
through her body, making her palms sweat and her heart speed up.

“Takala, be careful.”

“What?”

“You are sexually aroused.” He had spoken without an inflection in his voice, bluntly, a statement she couldn't refute.

Still she said, “I'm not.” She pulled her arms from around his neck, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

“I hear your pulse running wild, smell the perspiration on your skin, the female pheromones dripping off you.”

“It's only my metabolism, okay?” She knew he knew she had lied, but his awareness of her desire disconcerted her. It solidified her position on men. They just ruined her life. “Put me down,” she said.

He ignored her request and said, “You do not know what danger you are in when you tempt me like that.”

“Tempt you? I didn't—”

His kiss cut off her words. He devoured her lips. The coarse stubble of his chin tantalized her soft skin. She grew bold and brought her hands up, capturing his cheeks, eagerly smothering his lips. His forceful domination roused her, poured through her like molten steel, made her ache to have him. She thrust her tongue along his lips, demanding entrance.

He growled, a primitive sound, and opened for her. Takala drove her tongue into his moist depths.

Then she grew dizzy because she was moving at an unearthly speed. Suddenly the world stopped whirling without an axis. She realized he'd found a more private place for them: the side of the abandoned building.

He let her explore his mouth as he set her down and steadily waltzed her back against the side of the building. Then his tongue slid into her mouth, exploring the depths of her warmth. His forceful domination roused her, poured through her like hot lava. It wasn't like the tepid kisses from before. She was getting a taste of his unchecked desire. It made her ache all over to have him.

He slid a leg between her thighs, opening them, even as his hands went to her breasts and kneaded the high mounds.

Takala moaned and felt his erection rubbing the sensitive spot between her thighs.

“You taste extraordinary,” he said against her mouth, his breath warm on her lips. The heat of her mouth still lingered in his.

“So do you,” she whispered, rubbing her hands over his muscular chest, feeling his own heart throbbing, lost in the taste and feel of him.

He kissed her again, while his fingers moved up and over her breasts, then lingered at the base of her throat. She arched against him, moaning. He laid a finger on her jugular vein and left it there, feeling the pulse.

“You are too much of a temptation,” he said, staring deep in her eyes.

She could see his fangs, extended. The all-consuming look in his eyes excited her like nothing she'd ever experienced before. His potent aura captured her, and she didn't want him to turn her loose. So this is what it felt like to experience a vampire's passion, one greater than her own. She found herself wanting to test the boundaries.

Suddenly a throat cleared.

Striker let out an impatient grumble, then immediately stepped back from her, his eyes consuming her.

Takala stared at him, wanting him, bombs still going off inside her body.

“Yes.” Striker turned toward the vampire who looked like a bloodhound. Two other agents stood behind him.

Takala rarely blushed, but this was one of those “gotcha” moments that robbed her composure and caused the blood to rush to her cheeks. The interruption quickly put a distinct chill on her passion, and she couldn't believe how she'd been about to give herself over to him.

“Ah, yes, sir. Ah, s-sorry, sir….” The agent stumbled over his words. “You were gone so long we were worried.”

“Thank you for your diligence.” His words were as sharp as blades. “But as you can see, we are fine.”

“Yes, sir.” They turned and disappeared at the speed of light.

He broke the awkward moment between them. “That should never have happened.”

His words struck her in the chest, and she found it hard to catch her breath for a moment. She stared back at him. His eyes were as black as coal and churning like class-five rapids.

“You kissed me,” she threw back at him, hurting at this sudden rejection.

“I lost control.”

The full brunt of what could have happened struck her, and she felt her insides quivering. She watched the
flare of his nostrils, taking in her scent, and a shudder shook her body. Deep down she knew his strength was far greater than her own. No way she could have stopped him. Good grief, she hadn't wanted him to stop! That was the disturbing thing. She wanted to blame her passionate response on the glamouring, but he hadn't tried that vampire whammy on her.

At her silence, he said, “We shall have to keep a professional distance from now on.”

“We can if you keep your lips to yourself.” Takala threw out the last words like a snowball, turned and hurried off down the sidewalk.

She felt his gaze tracking her every movement and didn't care. She thought about parting company with him right then and there. But he was having Lilly watched, and the only way she could truly be certain of Lilly's safety was to stick to him like flypaper. So she trudged back to the car and got in.

He arrived in seconds, his presence like a looming predator. He started up the car.

Takala might have to stay close to him, but she didn't have to speak to him. With each passing second, pressure built in her throat, behind her eyes. Why she felt like crying, she didn't know. Maybe it was jet lag, or having her life threatened three times in two days, or Striker using Lilly as bait, or his saying their passion meant nothing. Professional distance. She'd show him what that was like. Her one goal was to keep Lilly safe, and that's what she intended to do.

Suddenly her phone vibrated, earning her a cutting glance from him.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Don't worry, this won't take long,” she said.

He merely cocked an eyebrow at her.

She pulled out her phone, and Akando's number was blinking. Great! Just great! The more she watched the number flashing, the more she decided this wasn't so bad. She answered. “Hello.”

“Takala, please don't hang up on me.”

“Give me a reason not to.”

She saw Striker's fingers tighten on the steering wheel and his brow wrinkle. Then he blinked, a sure sign he was annoyed. Served him right, kissing her and telling her it never should have happened.

“Because I love you, and I want you.”

Striker's knuckles turned to tight-ridged bands across the back of his hands.

It didn't hurt to test the waters. “You're breaking up. What'd you say?” She knew Striker could hear every word spoken.

“I love you.”

“Tell me again why you love me.”

“You're the most bodacious, beautiful woman I know. Because you rock my world. Because I can't live without you. Tell me where you are.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to see you. Make up with you.”

Oh, he sounded sincere. She could almost forgive him, if she hadn't heard the voice of the woman he had slept with.

“I'll see you when I get back.”

“No, tell me where you are.”

Suddenly the phone was jerked out of her hand. Striker slammed it shut with one effortless motion.

“Hey!”

“I won't have this mission compromised by a civilian getting in the way.” Striker handed her back the phone.

Was there a snippet of jealousy in those icy purple eyes, and in the tight set of his lips? “I had no intention of telling him where I am,” she said.

“Fine. Don't.” He sat in brooding silence for a moment, then said, “Are you considering letting him back into your life?”

“That's none of your business. You're on a need-to-know basis.” She flung his own words back at him.

They said nothing else to each other.

Takala should have felt more empowered than she did. Was he truly jealous, or was he only worried about the mission as he had said? He seemed annoyed with her, that was certain, but was it because he felt a need to control her and her private life? Maybe his agents let him get away with that, but he'd learn soon enough that she didn't appreciate being bullied.