Nocturnal Urges (Nocturnal Urges, Book One) (6 page)

Ryan’s hand slid up her arm, sending shivers across her skin, arcing across her back and making her nipples harden painfully against the fabric of her dress.

“Are you sure?” he asked, still a step away.

“Yes,” she breathed.

But his hand didn’t move. She looked up at him, and his eyes were that deep azure blue, enormous, filling her own gaze with an instant connection she felt to the base of her spine.

“Are you sure, Isabel?” he repeated, and in his eyes she saw the absolute truth—he would go no farther than she wanted.

“Yes,” she said, and smiled, as much to alleviate his concerns as her own jumping fears. With the decision made, somehow the butterflies quieted in her stomach and her heart slowed its frantic race.

Ryan stepped closer, and his eyes darkened, beyond blue to black, dark and mysterious. It was like ink swirling into two pools of blue water, spreading its tendrils, deepening until they filled her world.

She felt that soft lassitude in her limbs, heavy and languid. He led her gently to the bed, and she sat on the end, pulling her legs up onto the mattress. He slid behind her, and she felt his spare form against her back in a sudden jolt of electric heat along her body.

Ryan’s hands moved gently along her arms, making the light hairs along them prickle. He slid his hands to her waist, pressing gently against the curve of her hip. He leaned forward and pressed a light kiss on the curve of her neck, and a sudden bolt of pleasure came from somewhere in the center of her back and straight up to the back of her neck.

Isabel cried out softly, and she felt his soft lips smile against her skin.

His hand moved around to her stomach, still creating that electrical storm through the fabric of her dress. He smoothed his hand upward, so slowly she wanted to cry out again, sliding it up to rest just beneath her right breast. She arched her back, bringing the aching nipple into sharp contact with the sliding fabric.

“Ryan,” she breathed.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, and she almost laughed. As if she could possibly have the strength to stop. Duane’s face tried to intervene, and she pushed it away without difficulty.

Ryan’s hand moved up swiftly to cup her breast, and the electric heat sank into her skin with sudden, jolting fervor. She breathed sounds of pleasure as his fingers gently rubbed over the nipple, which was so hard and sensitive it was nearly painful. Ryan seemed to sense that, and touched her so lightly that he never overstimulated her, never pressed too hard or too roughly, but kept the right amount of pressure to keep her aroused and seemingly incapable of silence. Her voice cried out wordlessly, as though she had no control over it, and when his other hand moved up to capture her other breast, she let out a moan that would have embarrassed her if the pounding fervor of the music in the club beyond had not surely drowned her out.

Ryan’s mouth was moving again, pressing against the back of her neck, the exposed skin at the top of her back, licking little patterns along her shoulder line.

His hands slipped off her breasts, moving down again to her hips, and she realized he was steadying her, readying her for what was to come. The gentle but firm pressure of his hands kept her still, though her hips wanted to thrust and writhe as though he lay between her legs and moved within her.

With a quick motion, he swept her hair from her neck and returned his hands to her hips. She leaned back against him, feeling the pressure of his mouth at her throat. The two sharp points of his teeth dimpled her skin, and she was afraid for one tiny moment, like the sharp prick of a needle in her heart.

Then his teeth sank in, and a brief moment of pain dampened the fire burning between her legs and raging across her chest. But his lips quickly pressed over the wound, and instantly it faded.

She felt him begin to feed, drawing what he needed from her, and this time it was longer, more drawn out. It was as though the velvet thread within her skin was now a thin rope, coiled throughout her body. As he fed, he drew it out through her neck, and it moved beneath her skin, unspooling and sliding within her. The glorious tension built deep in her belly, between the raging electricity generated by his hands.

The velvet rope grew taut and strong, and still he fed, still she tried to writhe and move, and still he held her tightly, binding her close to him. Her hands moved helplessly on her thighs, and her eyes closed, her mouth open in a meaningless cry.

She wanted him, wanted to turn and take him within her, as though the only release for this great building tension would be to feel him fill her and complete her in open-mouthed, shared ecstasy.

Then the shuddering climax began, low in her abdomen and exploding throughout her body in cascades of vibrating shivers and moaning cries that seemed to come from her very skin as well as from her throat. Her back arched uncontrollably, and she felt his teeth slip and sink in a little deeper. The sudden jolt of pain helped banish the roil of shuddering ecstasy, which in truth was something of a relief. She felt as though she had skated up against something too big for her, something so powerful and huge that she could not take it within herself, could not feel that much without losing herself in it. She recoiled from that feeling, backed away from it in momentary fear.

She was suddenly aware that Ryan’s mouth was no longer on her throat, and for that matter, she was not sitting up. She was lying on her side, and Ryan was pressing something against her neck.

“It’s all right,” she heard herself say, as much to herself as to Ryan.

Ryan was calling out something, and she didn’t understand the words. They seemed to be in some other language. But someone must have understood him, because there were suddenly other people in the room. There were voices, and shadows, but the room was so dark…

Chapter Three

Voices. Angry but hushed, intense, as though afraid to wake her. Murmuring to each other beyond the darkness that still held her eyes closed.

“Do you need money?” A woman’s voice, cool and crisp.

Ryan’s voice responded. Even in a whisper, she would know his deep tones. “I don’t want your money.”

“You’ve got to get out of here, Ryan,” the woman said. “If they catch you, they will fucking kill you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he replied.

“Ryan, it’s your life,” the woman argued. “Attacking a human is an automatic death sentence.”

“I didn’t… I mean, I didn’t mean to…” Ryan’s voice was unsure, hesitant. Isabel struggled to speak, but it was as though her voice wasn’t listening to her brain.

“You think they care?” The woman’s voice was rising. “They’ll kill you whether you meant to do it or not.”

The voices hushed as somewhere a door opened and impatient footsteps approached Isabel. “Has there been any change?” a new voice asked, a lightly accented male.

“No,” said Ryan in a normal tone. “No movement.”

A harsh fluorescent light pierced through the darkness that surrounded Isabel. Somewhere, she heard bleeps and muted voices that told her she was in a hospital. She struggled to blink, and moved her lips a little. “Hello,” said the accented voice, and she focused for a moment on a vague face hovering above her. “There you are.”

Ryan appeared next to the other man, and for some reason Ryan seemed clearer, more real to her. His eyes were their normal blue again, full of concern. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Of course she’s not,” snapped the other man, whom Isabel now saw wore the white coat of a doctor. “Miss, you’re suffering from moderate exsanguinations, otherwise known as blood loss, from a vampire bite gone too far.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ryan stammered, his face pale even for a vampire. “I didn’t…”

Isabel tried to speak, but her voice was still not cooperating.

The doctor shot a glare at Ryan. “Miss, do you want me to send these…people away? Blink once for yes, twice for no.”

Isabel carefully blinked twice. The doctor shrugged. “All right,” he said. “But I’m leaving the door open.” He vanished from Isabel’s sight.

The woman’s voice came again, cool and controlled. “There, she’s alive, you can go now,” she said.

“Shut up,” Ryan said, turning to the woman. Isabel still couldn’t see her. But in a swish of fabric, she sensed the woman leaving.

Ryan turned back to look at her. “I beg your forgiveness,” he said formally. “That has never happened to me before. I cannot understand it.”

“Neither can I,” snapped a new voice, one Isabel recognized as Fiona’s. “I cannot fucking believe you, Ryan.”

Ryan turned away, and Isabel couldn’t see what was happening. She concentrated on lifting her hand, but it wasn’t cooperating.

“I lost control,” Ryan admitted.

“Damn right you did and I don’t need to tell you you’re fired,” Fiona snapped, all the matronly madam tones gone from her voice. “I haven’t had a vampire go ape-shit like this since the sixties! For that matter, if she presses assault charges your ass is grass, so I suggest you hightail it to your little penthouse flat and clear out of town fast.”

Ryan’s voice was flat and dejected. “I’m sorry, Fiona,” he said. “I don’t know what happened. It just…got away from me.”

“And at the end of the day, she’s gonna end up owning my place, so I’m not crying for your problems,” Fiona returned.

“She’s awake, Fiona,” he said dully, and Fiona muttered something in another language.

Isabel finally managed to say something. “Water,” she croaked, and Ryan was there, pressing a cup to her cracked lips. She sipped a little, and suddenly her mouth was working again.

“He’s not fired,” she croaked, trying to lift her head.

Fiona hovered into view, a severe gray business suit masking her generous curves. “I am so sorry, Miss Nelson,” she said. “This has not happened…”

“Since the sixties, I heard,” Isabel rasped. “He’s not fired. It’s not his fault.”

Fiona shot a look at Ryan.

“I moved,” Isabel said. “He didn’t mean for it to go that far. I moved, he slipped; it was an accident.”

Fiona shook her head, her red hair glinting in the fluorescent lights above her. “I don’t allow accidents in my place, Miss Nelson.”

Isabel thought for a moment. “If you fire him, I’ll sue,” she said, smiling a little. “Keep him and I won’t.”

Ryan gaped at her. Fiona sputtered for a moment, seeming undecided whether to glare at Isabel or at Ryan. “Fine then,” she said. “He’s on probation. Get better, dear.” She swept out of the room as grandly as if she still had the long skirts of her Nocturnal Urges evening gowns.

Ryan held the cup to her lips again, and she drank gratefully. “You didn’t have to do that,” he murmured.

“Yes, I did,” Isabel said, and reached up to his free hand. She felt that electricity again, but muted this time, a vibration beneath the skin rather than thrumming heat.

Ryan shook his head. “I never lost control before, and you barely moved,” he murmured. “I can’t understand it.”

Gently he brushed a lock of her hair away from her face.

“Get the fuck away from her,” snapped a voice from the doorway. Ryan’s hand jerked away from her face, and when he moved away, she saw Duane in the doorway.

Duane strode across the small room and shoved Ryan hard. Isabel struggled to get up. “Duane, stop it,” she tried to shout, but it came out weak and thin.

Ryan backed away, his hands held up to protect but careful not to show any offensive moves, she realized.

“Duane, I’m all right,” she said, and Duane stopped moving toward Ryan.

“You’re not all right,” he said. “This fucking leech…”

Ryan’s eyes flashed for a moment, but his hands remained still.

“Stop it, Duane,” Isabel said, grateful that some steadiness had returned to her voice. “It was my fault.”

“Bullshit,” Duane said. “These
things
aren’t supposed to bite unwilling women, they’re—”

“I paid him,” Isabel said.

Duane whirled around, staring at her. “You went back? Alone?”

She nodded, ignoring a twinge of pain from her neck. “I wanted to try it again,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Duane gaped at her. “You can’t go alone,” he said.

“Why not?” Isabel asked, feeling defensive. “You do, don’t you?”

Duane flushed, and she saw she’d hit a nerve. “Not for a while,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan said again, and moved toward the door. “I hope you get well quickly, Miss Nelson.”

Somehow, hearing her name so formally stung Isabel. She wanted to say something to him, but somehow it was different with Duane in the room. Ryan disappeared through the door.

“Are they going to let you go home?” Duane asked.

Isabel nodded. “I think so, it was just a little accident,” she said.

“There are no accidents with those things,” Duane growled.

“Stop that,” Isabel said. “If you hate them so much, why did you take me there?”

“Hey, I don’t hate them,” Duane said. “A leech can’t help its nature. Use them for what they’re good at, but you don’t forget what they are.”

Isabel shook her head, struggling to sit up. Duane moved to help her. “They’re not leeches,” she said. “They’re people.”

Duane shook his head, smiling in that condescending manner that made her want to smack him one. “That’s my girl,” he said. “Always the bleeding heart.”

* * * * *

This time, when Det. Freitas appeared at Isabel’s cubicle door, she was holding her badge. “Got a second?”

Isabel automatically touched the bandage at her neck. “You’re always checking up on me, Annie.”

Freitas grinned. “Comes from a long line of Portuguese grandmothers,” she said. “Let’s grab some food.”

As they walked to the café, Freitas kept sneaking looks at Isabel’s neck. “Yes, I feel just fine,” Isabel finally said.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Freitas said. “Just wanted to make sure you were in one piece and your teeth were the same length.”

“Ha,” Isabel said as they reached the café. “I got my shots, there’s no problem there.”

“Good,” Freitas said. “I hate the night shift, myself.”

Isabel stared at her for a second before she burst out laughing. “You have the strangest sense of humor, Annie,” she said.

“Not laughing much these days,” Freitas said, scanning the menu. “I don’t know why I look at this; I always order the same thing…”

“What’s happening on the police beat?” Isabel said. “You beat up any suspects this week?”

“Nah, they run too fast,” Freitas said. “Too many ham-and-cheese omelets, I’m slowin’ down…”

“So what’s giving you fits?” Isabel asked.

Freitas sighed and closed the menu. “Another dead body at Nocturnal Urges,” she said softly. “I gotta say, Isabel. Going back there alone was a really bad idea.”

“While we’re on the subject, how the hell did you find out about that?” Isabel said.

“I know everything,” Freitas said, smiling. “My spies are everywhere.”

“I didn’t press charges, it wasn’t his fault,” Isabel said.

The waitress came to take their order, and after she had cleared away the menus, Freitas leveled her cop eyes at Isabel. Sometimes Freitas could be almost a normal person, Isabel thought, and other times the cop in her came out and those laser-like eyes would just bore right through you.

“How did it happen?” Freitas asked.

Isabel frowned. “You asking as my friend or as a cop?”

Freitas shrugged. “How about both?”

“As a cop, I can definitely say it was not his fault, just an accident. He got carried away,” Isabel said. “That’s why I didn’t press any charges.”

“Yeah, I saw that,” Freitas said. “So explain ‘carried away’.”

Isabel shrugged. “I, uh, moved too much,” she said, her face feeling hot. “His teeth sank in a little too far. He called for help right away,” she added.

“Huh.” Freitas kept gazing at her with those narrow cop eyes.

“What?” Isabel said. “Why are you asking about this?”

Freitas leaned forward. “Because a vamp doesn’t lose control just because you move, Isabel,” she said. “A vamp like Ryan bites two or three people a night, only taking a little blood so the human can replenish it easily. A vamp like Ryan has been around the block enough to know how to hold a customer, how to keep the bite shallow. It’s natural to them. You don’t think they go around ripping throats out, do you?”

Isabel lowered her head. “I don’t know how it’s supposed to work.”

“Vamps live off humans like parasites, that much of what Osborne and his nutbars say is true,” Freitas said. “But a good parasite doesn’t kill its host. Hell, in order to drink a human dry the vamp would have to swallow something like two gallons of blood. That’d be like you or me sitting down to eat a whole turkey and following it with an Easter ham. It can be done, but why do it? You’d be sick.”

“So how come you hear about vamps killing people?” Isabel asked.

Freitas shrugged. “How come you hear about humans killing people?” she said. “It sure isn’t for food. Hell, the latest left half the blood on the ground…”

Isabel gaped in sudden understanding. Freitas grabbed her coffee. “That was dumb,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said that in front of you. Please, Isabel, don’t repeat that to anyone.”

“You think Ryan’s the one killing people around Nocturnal Urges,” Isabel said.

Freitas shrugged. “He could be,” she said. “He lost control with you, and that just does not happen. He’s also been off-duty or at least not with a customer during the approximate time of each murder, he’s at least three hundred years old but we can’t find a background on him in the States and listen to my mouth run.”

“So why are you telling me all this?” Isabel said.

Freitas fixed her cop eyes on Isabel, but this time there was the Portuguese grandmother in there as well. “Don’t go back to Nocturnal Urges, Isabel,” she warned. “Don’t go with Caveman the Boyfriend, and certainly don’t go alone.”

Isabel snickered. “Duane would freak out if he heard you call him that,” she said.

“I’m serious, Isabel,” Freitas said. “I don’t wanna find you in the alley.”

“Okay, okay,” Isabel said. “I’m off the biting list for a while anyway.”

“Good,” Freitas said. “I hope you’re having red meat.”

Isabel burst out laughing again.

* * * * *

Sometimes there were side benefits to Duane’s night shifts, Isabel thought. For one thing, it meant she could play classic rock music in her own apartment without getting the standard Duane eyeroll. The Beatles sang out cheerful lyrics as she folded towels in the living room.

She carried the stack of towels down the hallway toward the closet. As she passed the front door, a sharp knock made her jump, and the towels spilled onto the floor.