Out of the Night (33 page)

Lanie woke to the sound of a slow heartbeat and it took her a moment to realize it wasn't her own. It seemed to come from just beneath her ear and as she focused on the sound, she noticed the soft springiness of chest hair and hard muscle beneath her cheek.

The events of the early morning came rushing back to her and she cracked open an eyelid, confirming what she'd almost hoped had been a dream. She was lying with her head on Mac's chest. Worse still, sometime while they'd slept, her shirt had ridden up around her waist and now her bare hips were pressed intimately against Mac's completely nude form.

Heat flooded her face at the predicament, and she tried to figure out how to get out of bed without waking him. When she felt his hand gently caress her back, she realized it was too late. Her mind desperately sought a way to escape this embarrassing situation, and she held perfectly still.

"I know you're awake," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I, uh—no, I'm not."

His soft laughter was a low rumble beneath her ear, making her realize how much more comfortable he seemed to be at this moment than she. It made sense, she thought. He'd probably been in bed with hundreds of women, whereas her experience was limited to a few extremely forgettable episodes.

"You're thinking too hard," Mac whispered, putting a finger under her chin and tilting her head up until she was looking into his face. Slowly, he dipped his head toward her and she held her breath, suddenly worried about things like bad hair, no makeup, and—morning breath. "Stop it," he softly chastised, his warm breath fanning her face seconds before his lips touched hers.

All thoughts vanished as her entire consciousness narrowed to focus on his lips, which, like the man, were firm and demanding. She was hesitant at first, but as the kiss grew more intense, so did her response. It seemed that her very essence centered on the feel of his body against hers and when he pulled at her shirt, she willingly allowed him to rid her of it. She almost moaned aloud when they came together again and she rubbed against the soft hairs of his chest.

For several long minutes, he held her head and simply kissed her; long, thorough, devouring kisses. Then his hand was at her shoulder, caressing a trail down her arm until he cupped her breast, molding her fullness. She felt her nipple harden beneath his palm and when he rolled it between his fingers, her breath caught from the sheer pleasure of it. With a groan of impatience, he pulled her on top of him so that her breasts hung heavy in his face. He laved the tip of one nipple before taking it into his mouth to suckle.

Each tug on her breast sent tremors shooting to a point low in her belly, and when she felt his erection against her upper thigh, she shifted so he was between her legs. The tip of his shaft teased the sensitized flesh at her entrance and she squirmed, needing to feel him inside her. As if sensing her need, he grabbed her hips and held her in place as he thrust up into her. The sensation of him filling her almost sent her over the edge. Her hands clutched at his shoulders as shudders spread through her.

She rose up slightly with her knees, letting him draw partway out before lowering herself, ever so slowly, exulting in the thick fullness of him. She started to rise again, when her world suddenly tilted and she found herself on her back with Mac cradled between her legs, staring down at her.

"Sorry, baby. My turn to drive." With one hand braced on the mattress by her head, he used the other to hold her to him as he drove himself into her, over and over, each thrust more powerful than the last.

If she'd been able to form a coherent thought, words like
primitive
and
animalistic
might have come to mind, but she was well beyond thinking. He held her mercilessly and with unrelenting urgency took her until the wave of emotion that had been building inside her crashed in a tidal wave of sheer ecstasy, ripping a small cry from her throat. She clutched Mac as if he were a lifeline and still he continued his pounding rhythm. Though she would have thought it physically impossible, the tension inside her built again.

With her attention focused on the myriad of sensations coursing through her, she was barely aware of Mac's warm breath on her neck. The first scraping of his fangs against her highly charged skin elicited the purest form of erotic pleasure she'd ever felt and at the first prick of her flesh, she gasped as the white-hot flames threatened to consume her.

"Oh, God. What have I done?"

Lanie teetered on the edge of what promised to be the greatest sexual experience of her life and couldn't understand why Mac had suddenly grown still. "Please, don't stop," she begged, clutching at him.

"I hurt you." His body shook with the effort not to move.

"No, you didn't." She wanted to cry or scream. "Don't stop. Oh, God,
please
don't stop."

"You don't understand." He sounded desperate, "I wanted to bite you. I wanted your blood."

He held himself above her, muscles quivering, and Lanie saw the determination in his face, as well as the desire burning brightly in his red glowing eyes.

She faced a moment of truth. She could tell him to stop and he would, or she could trust her life to his ability to control himself. Taking his head between her hands, she pulled him down until their lips were inches away. "I trust you." The gentle kiss she gave him was in stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions inside her.

Still he hesitated. "Lanie, I don't think I can…"

"It's okay," she whispered, looking up into his face. She knew that she'd never be with another man like him. This experience might have to last her a long time—maybe a lifetime. She wanted him so badly at that moment that she couldn't play fair. She thrust her hips up against him, driving him farther into her. The light in his eyes grew suddenly wild and he growled, grabbed her to him, and resumed their lovemaking with heightened intensity until, once again, she felt she was teetering on the edge of a great precipice.

When his mouth fell against her neck and his fangs pierced her skin, it was more than she could take. She screamed as her world shattered into a million brightly burning stars.

In the next moment Mac thrust into her one final time and his own primal cry joined the echo of hers.

Slowly, the tide ebbed and they lay there, spent and exhausted. Lanie smiled as Mac trailed kisses along the side of her neck before rolling off and pulling her to him so she lay tucked against his side.

For several seconds neither spoke, then Lanie said the first thing that popped into her head. "Wow."

Beneath her head, she heard and felt the soft rumble of Mac's chest. "I have to admit, it was pretty incredible."

"You didn't hurt me, you know." She wasn't sure if she could tell him that the bite had been just the opposite. Rather than painful, it had been wonderfully erotic, but she was curious how it made him feel. "What was it like—drinking my blood?"

"It was like drinking from a fountain of pure energy. One that tastes like the sweetest nectar." He paused before continuing in an almost reverent tone. "I've never felt so alive."

His admission confused her. "If drinking blood makes you feel that way, then why did you throw away that blood I brought you?"

"Because for some reason, Lanie, it's only your blood I want. But don't worry, love—I'll never take it without permission. I promise."

At that moment, their door burst open with a loud crash. Suddenly alone in bed, heart racing, Lanie clutched the sheets to cover herself and wondered what the hell was going on.

Mac stood between her and the door, somehow managing to have rolled out of bed without getting tangled in the covers. From somewhere close-by, he'd retrieved his gun and held it aimed at the intruder. Lanie thought he looked very intimidating, despite being totally nude. From the connecting door across the room, Dirk appeared, also holding a gun, but thankfully wearing jeans.

For several long minutes, no one moved. Because Mac obstructed her view of the intruder, Lanie leaned to one side—and then promptly wished she hadn't. She'd never been so embarrassed in her life and wished that she could simply disappear.

Judging from Dirk's expression and stance, he looked ready to pull the trigger and ask questions later. Afraid both he and Mac would open fire at any moment, Lanie knew she had to do something. Her options were limited by her state of undress, and so she did the only thing she could.

"Mac, Dirk. I'd really appreciate it if you wouldn't shoot my father."

Mac had never quite found himself in this type of situation before. By the look in the creature's eye, Mac knew the vampire was there to kill him. Whether it was because Burton had sent him or because he'd found Mac sleeping with his daughter, Mac didn't know.

Whichever it turned out to be, Professor Weber was at a decided advantage—being dead already—but Mac wasn't going without a fight. Weber had caught him with his pants down, literally, and he felt his own temper flare and fought to keep it under control.

He waited for Weber to make the first move, determined that the man wouldn't harm Lanie. As he and Weber studied each other, Mac became aware of a steady litany of curses issuing from the bed and an unexpected spark of amusement shot through him. Most women would have cowered under the covers, but not his Lanie. Even now, he heard her struggling to get out of bed.

"Lanie, stay there," he ordered, afraid she might step into his line of fire.

"I am not sitting here while you go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer on me. If either of you shoot my father, you'll have me to deal with." Mac heard the thud of feet hitting the floor and knew she'd gotten out of bed. She moved into his peripheral vision and he noticed that she'd managed to wrap the sheet around herself. She also clutched his jeans in one hand and shoved them at him.

"You might want to put these on. The people in the hall are beginning to stare." He didn't move, wanting to see what the vampire was going to do.

Lanie finally gave an exasperated huff and turned to her father. "Hello, Dad. I'm really glad you decided to visit, but couldn't you have knocked first?" She gestured helplessly at the door hanging from only its top hinge.

As she rambled on, Mac noticed Dirk's nod toward the door and dipped his head once to acknowledge the message. He kept his gun trained on Weber as Dirk slipped into the room, lifted the door, and fit it back into its frame.

Fortunately, Mac thought, passersby were too stunned at seeing a nude man holding a gun to notice anything unusual about the man with his back to them.

Lanie continued to stand there, glaring first at Mac and then at her father. "Really," she said, disgusted. "This is too much. Dad, stop snarling at Mac."

"I heard you scream," her father gritted out between clinched teeth, his anger still quite evident.

"You didn't hear me scream," she denied.

"Hell, the whole hotel heard you scream," Dirk muttered from off to the side.

"See?" the professor bit out, sounding vindicated, and Mac made a mental note to shoot his friend later.

He saw Lanie's cheeks turn pink and a look of dismay cross her face. She sank into the desk chair and out of the corner of his eye, Mac saw her lower her head into her hands, muttering, "Oh, God. This is not happening."

"Knowing you were keeping company with a vampire, I naturally assumed you were being attacked," Weber continued. "And when I get in here, that's exactly what I find."

"Nonsense," she scoffed. "Mac would never do anything to hurt me." She said it with such conviction mat Mac felt humbled.

"Your neck is bleeding," her father pointed out indignantly.

"Yes, but as you can see, I'm fine."

"I don't know why you feel you need to protect him, Lanie, but I know what I saw. He had you on the bed—"

"
In
bed, Dad. We were
in
bed. And he wasn't attacking me."

The professor's tirade suddenly stopped, and the look on his face changed to one of horrified disbelief as comprehension finally dawned. Mac thought he might have been safer before, when the man thought he'd attacked his daughter.

"You slept with him?"

"Who slept?" She gave an unladylike snort. "Sorry, it's a line from a movie." She took a deep breath. "Okay, Dad,
you
need to calm down." She stood up and walked over to Mac, poking him in the arm. "
You
need to get dressed, and don't shoot my father. Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to shower and dress. When I come back, we can all sit down and have a nice little chat."

To the amazement of all the men there, she went to her duffel bag, pulled out clothes, and walked through the connecting doors into the other room.

"Lanie," her father shouted after her, "I'm not going to forget what he did to you." His threat sounded dire, and Mac prepared himself for the worst.

Lanie's laugh surprised them. "That makes two of us. Wow!"

Mac heard the bathroom door close, soon followed by the sound of the shower. The three men faced one another, in a standoff.

"That is the most unusual woman I have ever run into," Dirk muttered from the other side of the room.

"You have no idea," the professor muttered, and Mac thought he detected a spark of amusement replace some of the irritation in the eyes that locked on his. "But you do, don't you?"

Mac nodded. "Yes, sir. And I'd never do anything to hurt her—you have my word of honor on that."

The professor let out a sigh. "I suppose your word means something to you?"

"Just because we served in the same military unit, don't let Burton color your view of the rest of us," Mac said. "Honor and integrity still mean something to most of us."

For several seconds he felt as if he were a fleck of something interesting under the professor's microscope, as closely as the man studied him, but then the professor nodded. "It's clear that my daughter cares for you greatly, and she is, usually, an excellent judge of character." The older man's shoulders slumped a little, as the fight seemed to go out of him. "I didn't come to hurt anyone."