Pool of Crimson (14 page)

“I’m so sorry for disturbing your beauty sleep.” I stepped out from behind the desk to face him full on. His eyes went down my body in a long, lecherous gaze. His eyes narrowed on my heels.

“I’ll just leave then and let you get back to it. You look like you need your beauty rest.” I quipped as I took a step forward. He didn’t move to stop me. He didn’t have to. He had me trapped.

His eyes moved slowly up my body, making me feel naked. It was a hungry look that I didn’t understand. “You know I can’t let you leave.” Sorrow edged his words and his brow furrowed as he met my eyes.

“I think you can,” I said with a small sly smile as I balled my fists at my sides. If he wanted a fight, I’d damn well give it to him.

“You’re not really dressed for a fight, sweetheart,” he cooed. He casually placed his right hand on the doorjamb, then leaned his long, lean body across the open doorway. The way he’d said
sweetheart
made me think that it wasn’t just a word to him. I’d expected it to feel like a sneer or be filled with contempt. It wasn’t.

I wanted to hear it again.
What the hell?
I shook that thought from my mind and took a fighting stance, feet apart, hip angled toward him.

“Don’t be so sure,” I said through clenched teeth. I didn’t like that
he
was the one who made me feel wanted, feel normal. I’d beat that need out of him and out of me, too, even if it killed me.

“You really want to do this?” he asked as he brought his hand down from the doorjamb to rest casually at his side. The movement was too practiced, too precise to be casual, and I noticed.

“Yeah, I think I do.”

He was on me before I even saw him move. His arms wrapped around me in a bear hug so tight my ribcage cracked in protest, and I fought not to scream. He lifted my legs off the ground and held me tightly against him, his firm, muscled chest crushed my breasts against him. His face loomed inches from mine. “You still want to do this?” he asked with a grin.

He enjoyed having me pressed up against him. “Uh huh,” I said with a smile just before I bashed my forehead into his.

His arms slackened. He released me as his head flung back from the force of my blow. I hit the ground and wobbled on my three-inch heels, but I caught myself on the edge of the desk before I could fall to the floor.

Patrick rubbed his forehead.

Hadn’t been expecting that. I’d definitely rung his bell.
Ha!

I took a step forward and kicked him hard in the chest, scraping his skin with the heel of my shoe. He stumbled back toward the open door. He caught himself after a few steps on the doorjamb and shook his head like a wet dog. His eyes focused on me with a gleam of excitement in them. That look made my heart race with anticipation.

Shit!
I liked it. I raised my fists up in preparation for a fight.

Patrick took a step forward and closed the gap between us. I brought my right fist up in a quick jab. He dodged to the left, then grabbed my outstretched wrist, landing his own upper cut to my kidney.

The impact felt like I’d been hit by a car, brining the sting of tears to my eyes. I brought my left fist up in a hook to his jaw, connecting with his bone with all the strength I had. He held my right wrist tighter as blood trickled from his mouth and down his chin. Mouth tight, he gave me another uppercut to the kidneys.

I gasped in pain. I wouldn’t be able to take another one of those to the same kidney. Bringing up my right foot, I slammed my heel down onto the top of his bare foot. I sank the heel of my shoe into his flesh, stretching the metatarsals around my stiletto.

His mouth opened in a silent scream as he released my wrist. I hit him with a right hook to the jaw and followed it quickly with a left jab to the gut, moving quickly before he regained his concentration.

Stepping back to get better leverage, I brought my foot up. But not in time. He slammed the back of his hand across my face, slapping me in a hard line across my cheek. My mouth filled with blood, and I wavered. He’d hit me hard. Harder than he’d punched me in the kidneys.

I’d clearly pissed him off.

I ran my tongue along my top row of teeth.
Yep, still there.
I spit the mouthful of blood on the floor, staining the hardwood red as I stepped to the left. His gaze followed me, but he didn’t move. There was only one way I was getting out alive. One of us was going to die. The thought of killing the vampire standing before me left an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I didn’t want to kill him.

I
needed
to kill him.

I
should
kill him.

I wasn’t sure I
could
kill him.

I circled him, my hands still balled into fists. I waited for his move as he watched me. I had the idea the same thoughts were running through his mind. Probably wishful thinking on my part.

I had to end this.

I knew what I had to do. I kicked down hard on the side of his knee, sending him to the floor with a flourish of swear words tumbling from his full lips. While he was down on his remaining good knee, I brought my leg around and across his face. He hit the floor with a thud of solid flesh and a bash of his skull against the hardwood floor.

I stepped over him and trapped one wrist down in the curve of my heel. I held my other foot over his neck, applying pressure to his skin with my heel. All I had to do was stomp down to incapacitate him. I’d have to find something to kill him if I needed to, but there had to be something around that would do the job. I was pretty sure I’d seen some wood in the fireplace.

His body lay still beneath me as I stood over him, tight and ready for a fight. His chest heaved up and down in time with my own heavy breaths. My pulse pounded in my ears as the blood rushed through my system. All the pain had disappeared with the adrenaline rush of having the upper hand. He opened his eyes and turned them up to meet mine. He remained still as death beneath me. The heat from his dark eyes rippled through me like a shock through my body.

The corners of his mouth turned up in a pleased smile, making his dark eyes twinkle with delight. His free hand moved cautiously, painstakingly slow through the air. He moved like he was afraid any sudden movement might frighten the skittish kitten away.

He was right.

I could kill him. I should kill him before he had the chance to get the upper hand. I didn’t. I stood there, frozen as his fingers trailed over the toe of my shoe, up over the top of my foot. His long, slender fingers brushed over my skin. Gooseflesh rippled up my leg at his cool touch. His hand skimmed my skin, feather light to the touch, over my ankle, and up under my pant leg. I swallowed hard, almost audibly, and my breath hitched. His hand pressed against my leg in a caress that sent my eyelids fluttering. My breasts grew heavy with want, my mouth went dry, and my sex clenched in reaction to his soft caress. A sound escaped my lips, once that I’d never heard before ... a moan of submission.

“So warm,” he whispered.

Against my better judgment, my body reacted to his touch. I felt my face flush and grew wet with arousal.

His fingers trailed a cool line of fire down the back of my leg. “I want you. I’ve wanted you since the first night I laid eyes on you,” he said in a hungry drawl that sounded too close to a growl to be safe.

I snapped my eyes open and jerked away from his fingers. I backed away several steps toward the door, stumbling over my heels. I couldn’t do this, even if my body ached for him to touch me again. I raised my shaking fists in defense. I’d break his nose before I let him touch me again.

He pushed up on his elbows and watched me with that same predatory gaze. I saw the desire behind the chase, and my stomach tightened. A shiver ran up my spine as I met his eyes. Something horrible had happened. I wanted him to catch me.

“I-I can’t stay.” I took another step backward toward the door, toward salvation.

“Sweetheart,” he said, emotion rich in his tone as he sat up, trying to reach for me. There was no hint of mockery in his voice. He relaxed back on his elbows and a small smile lit up his dark eyes. “I’m sure we’ll meet again,” he said, widening his smile to something that was devastatingly handsome.

I had to get out of there. I turned and ran, unmindful of the racquet my heels made, and sped through the double French doors and into the sunlight. Patrick didn’t follow. He couldn’t. He was undead, and the undead didn’t do sunlight.

Chapter 10

I couldn’t move. Those same dingy taupe walls stared back at me. My pulse raced and my face flushed with dread. I couldn’t be here again. Not on that damned table. Not again.

My wrists were bound with padded leather. Tears flooded my eyes as I tried to slip my hands from the tight bonds that kept me strapped to that fucking table.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” I kept repeating to myself as I struggled against the restraints. The muscles in my back screamed in protest as I tried to pull the restraints from the table. I yanked and yanked again, until my skin burned from the friction.

“Darling,” my torturer cooed from the corner. “Don’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself.” She sat, stiff and proper, on a metal chair.

I wasn’t sure how I’d missed her. Her blond hair and gray eyes mirrored mine, but there was something sinister there I hoped I didn’t possess.

“Please, Mommy, don’t do this,” I begged, warm tears streaming down the sides of my face.

She remained still and pretty, with a big, unconcerned smile on her face, like she was having her picture taken.

“But, sweetheart,” a deep male voice behind me started.

My breathing became erratic at the familiar sound of his voice, and the smallest flicker of hope filled me. Patrick! Patrick could get me out of here.

“She can’t let you go.” Patrick’s voice was soothing.

I strained my neck to try and see him better. He came around the table from behind me, and stood only a foot away. I could almost reach up and touch him. The adhesive pulling at my temples tore the top layer of skin from my face as I struggled against the nodes. I didn’t care.

“Why? Why can’t she?” My breath hitched as I tried to hold back my tears.

“Who are you talking to, darling?” my mother asked with a simple cock of her head.

“Why can’t she let me go?” I asked again, ignoring my mother as Patrick stepped up to the gurney.

He gazed down at me, eyes soft and apologetic just before he glanced over his shoulder at my mother. She didn’t see him. Maybe I was going crazy.

Tears slid down the side of my face, regardless of what I wanted.

Patrick’s soft, cool fingers trailed across my forehead in a tender stroke as he pushed my hair from my face. His fingers brushed my cheek, wiping away a tear.

“Because, sweetheart, she’s afraid of you,” he said softly, with the tiniest of smiles.

He meant to reassure me, but I panicked. The slightest glint of fang graced his smile. My pulse pounded through my veins and my lungs burned as I breathed the stale, electricity charged air.

“Patrick,” I whimpered. “Please help me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I can’t,” he replied, an apology gleaming in his eyes.

“Why?” I inhaled a broken, ragged breath. My salvation faded away as he stroked my hair tenderly. My bottom lip trembled with fear as I openly sobbed.

“Sweetheart, I’m not the white knight,” he said simply, his eyes filled with remorse. “You are.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead lightly as he pushed my head to the side. He leaned in close to my ear, his nose trailing lightly along my jawline to my ear.

“Don’t you know? I’m the villain of the piece,” he whispered, then sank his fangs deep into the flesh of my neck.

“Noooooooooo,” I screamed as pain rippled through me, and the warm flow of my blood covered my skin.

My eyes snapped open. The room was dark. I reached for my neck. I was alone, warm in my bed with my neck still intact. I couldn’t let him bite me. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

Chapter 11

I parked the car in the garage and ran in the house, tossing clothing on the stairs, over the banister, and on my bedroom floor as I went. I had to get in the shower. I had an hour before Danny was supposed to show up for our date. I needed to wheedle information out of him. I wanted to get to the bottom of Danny, the curly-haired bitch, and how they all connected to the vampires. I had to give him a reason to want to talk to me.

An hour wasn’t enough time to make the transformation to gorgeous. It just wasn’t.

I grabbed a black skirt from my closet and a garter, capable of holstering up to six small stakes. I added black heels and a red chiffon V-neck empire waist blouse that allowed material to flow freely from my rib cage. I put on my silver earrings and the crucifix necklace, a confirmation gift from my father. It reminded me too much of home and disappointment so I didn’t wear it often. I put some extra stakes in my bag for safekeeping, then made my way down the stairs.

The doorbell rang before I hit the bottom step. My breath caught in my throat and anxiety twisted my stomach. I wasn’t sure I could pull off the spy/interrogation thing. I was the shoot ‘em first and ask questions later type of girl. This required more finesse than I usually had and more cunning than I was capable. There was a good chance I’d fail.

Danny was in it up to his neck. That much I knew. Rage bubbled beneath the surface of my skin like melting paint. I had to do something. This was the only way for me to stop that dark- haired bitch from hurting me, or worse, Jade. I plastered a smile on my face. I’d play their game, and I’d win, too. I took a few deep breaths, then swung the door open.

Danny smiled brightly at me, like nothing was wrong. His smile carried a hunger in his hazel eyes that sent a shiver through me. I wanted to believe that smile was real. I didn’t want to believe he could hurt me. He looked at me in a way that made me feel like I was the only person on the planet that mattered to him. My body relaxed even though my brain kept screaming that he was in league with that bitch.

That little voice hummed in my subconscious, lulling my suspicions to sleep. That voice kept whispering,
It’s Danny, just Danny. Danny won’t hurt us, can’t hurt us.