SEDUCTIVE SUPERNATURALS: 12 Tales of Shapeshifters, Vampires & Sexy Spirits (103 page)

“It sure wouldn’t be the first time you haven’t made it home.”

Amari reached up to touch my face, her knuckles warm against my skin. She still had the crystals in her grip, and as she stroked my cheek, my chest clenched with that hint of pain I had whenever I thought of the Meratoliages.
Family
. The word was so foreign that it nearly dug back into me, burrowing away in order to survive.

She smiled with those red lips. “I pity that phantom. He’s ’bout to get a shit storm on his hands—if he had hands.”

I smiled at her, as well, and she patted my cheek. Then my boots forced me to step away, toward the door, as if they sensed I needed a push.

“Careful, now,” Amari said.

“Always.”

“Well, child, that ain’t exactly my experience with you, but I’ll take it.”

I raised my hand in a small wave as I backed toward the door, the patch of skin on my face where she’d touched me fuzzy with warmth. Was it because of the human contact or did it have to do with those crystals she had been holding?

There was no time to find an answer, because I was already walking through the front room, toward the screen door where Jean-Marie was peeking outside. When she heard me, she pulled back, taking one of her braids and covering the lower half of her face with it.

Staring at Philippe, was she?

“He’s fit all right,” I said, winking at her as she grinned under that braid.

She paused, turning aside to leave. Then, with a rush, she bolted toward me and gave me a hug, squeezing hard. Surprised, I hugged her back, and when we were done, I surveyed her, then pulled on her other braid for good measure. She hustled back to the bedroom.

Little sister?
I thought.

With a rush of determination, I decided that I would return here to find out if that were true, and perhaps even one day, I would even remember all this information on my own, without the boots.

Not that I don’t appreciate you
, I thought to them as I walked out the door.

The only response I received from them was a tight jerk that zinged from my legs to my belly, pooling there with electric anticipation when I spied Philippe near his motorcycle, inspecting his revolver.

When he saw me, he spun the cylinder and clicked it into place, stuffing the firearm into the back of his dark jeans.

“Silver bullets,” he said, reaching for a helmet he had set on the backseat of the bike. “After you enlisted me in your adventure last time, I searched out all the paranormal objects I could, just in case. There’s nothing like meeting a kung-fu dervish who’s being chased around by a red-eyed assassin to make a man stock up.”

“What would silver bullets do to a spirit?” I asked, coming down the stairs to Philippe. The inside of my belly swirled as I got closer, and I ignored it.

“I don’t know, but I like to be prepared.” He lifted the hem of his shirt and gestured toward a compact velvet bag he had tied to a belt loop in front. “I’ve even got garlic and a small crucifix, in case of vampires.”

“Those don’t work on every vamp, you know,” I said as he handed me the helmet.

He had one, too, and he started to put it on. “What do you know about vampires?”

In general? A hell of a lot
, I thought as all the trivial knowledge that came with me activated. I knew that the vampires I had served could be killed by things like fire or decapitation, that different sub-masters had different powers that they handed down to their own lines. Fine use those nuggets might be tonight.

I donned the helmet, and Philippe climbed on the bike, waiting for me to do the same. I swung my leg over the vehicle, sat, and automatically slipped my hands to his waist, where he was hard with muscle, sleek and smooth.

Mmm.

Looking over his shoulder, he spoke from under his helmet. “Don’t be shy, Lilly. You can hug me tighter than that.”

Instinct nearly had me sliding my hands downward, over his belly, then his groin, giving him a nice goose, but I saw Amari and Jean-Marie on the porch to bid us goodbye.

“Perhaps we’ll have time later,” I said, mocking what he had told me about never having the opportunity to snog during our previous adventure.

I pulled down my helmet shield then waved to Amari and Jean-Marie as Philippe laughed. He turned on the engine, slapping down his own shield, taking off.

Grasping him tighter, I realized he hadn’t been jesting about holding tight, and I leaned against him as we hit a dirt road where moss-stranded trees hovered on each side. As we passed one looming oak, I thought I saw red eyes staring out at me.

Meratoliage?

But when I looked back, there was nothing.

My boots relaxed on me, and I wondered if they had merely sent me a memory of that night when I had been hunted down, when Philippe had helped me to kill my adoring relative.

We came to a main road, traveling into the night. Vibrations from the bike hummed under me, and I felt every mechanical quiver between my legs, massaging me, making me lean even closer to Philippe. My breasts were crushed to his firm back, with just the bump of his revolver separating us, and I wondered what he would do if I rubbed against him like a creature in heat.

Which I reckon I was.

By the time we reached City Park, there was no fear in me at all, merely that heat, growing with every mile we covered. When we parked in the deserted lot, I ached to throw danger to the wind and just kiss the hell out of Philippe Angier, to get him out of my blood before I needed to focus on the reason we were here.

Righto.

We doffed our helmets, and I shook out my hair. He watched me, hanging his own gear on the handlebars. I followed his example, brushing by him as I reached over.

He liked how I had finger-teased my hair—I could see that from the fire in his eyes—and, ah, yes, there he was again, back to being the naughty pirate: as lethal as an unscrupulous rogue who would hide in the bayous from the law back in the day.

“What’re you doin’, Lilly?” he asked in a gritty voice.

“Minding my hair.”

“Funny. I had the impression you might be trying to make up for not getting a little closer on that bike.”

“I
was
close. Uncomfortably so.”

“Not close enough for my tastes.”

A ghost of a grin curved his lips before he gave me one last look that sent thrills over every inch of my skin. Then the grin straightened out as he gestured toward the car park’s exit.

“My neighborhood ain’t far from here. That’s why I want to get a hold of this phantom as soon as possible. He could hop-skip-and-jump to one of my neighbor’s places, if he wanted to.”

His ability to change the subject was impressive.
Time for business
, I thought.

“Do you think the law is still investigating the crime scene tonight?”

“No, they’re not around.” He tapped his ear. “You’d hear a lot more activity. Most likely, the area is still taped off, though—not that it’ll matter. I want a touch reading from the oak where our victims died, and a little yellow tape’s not gonna stop me. The vibes I get from the victims’ murder spots might give me more details than we already have.”

Psychometry. Along with Philippe’s precognitive visions and other assorted monster weapons, he had a fine arsenal.

I started to wonder if he had done any touch readings on me yet, even if I hadn’t been aware.

He seemed to anticipate me. “I normally get permission to read others. Unlike some other psychics, I consciously activate my touch readings.”

Amari had told me before I had left that Philippe had once read me, when I had first met him. What had he seen?

I didn’t want him to see it again, just as I didn’t want to remind him what I looked like with my boots off.

“I imagine,” I said, changing the subject, “that I’m to keep watch while you’re flying in the face of the law, then?”

“That’s the plan. I’d also like to track down that guard who chased away the killer to ask him a thing or two about what he saw before the phantom disappeared. But that work is for daylight hours.”

Having established our strategy, I started off. Nothing was about to get accomplished in a car park.

When Philippe gripped my wrist and pulled me back to him, the breath jarred in my lungs. And when he pressed me against him so I could feel his muscled body, my lips parted.

“This time,” he whispered, threading his fingers through my hair, “I’m gonna get this out of the way.”

As he crushed his lips to mine, I grabbed at his shirt, fisting it. My body went limp as he slowly kissed me, making my bones turn to clay, just as if I were ready to be shaped any way he wanted me.

His lips were full, soft, and I answered him with as much languid fervor as he was giving me while he bunched his fingers in my hair, his other hand slipping to my waist and grasping it. As he slid his tongue into my mouth, I pressed against him, feeling a ridge of excitement against my belly. His excitement excited
me
, and my clit tightened, my sex going damp.

The boots were clinging to me like fingers clawing their way down my skin, leaving delicious shivers that floated up, arousing me higher and higher. I moaned under his lips, wanting more, wanting to be anywhere but here with him…

I might have even made a small, agitated sound when he ended the kiss, his mouth less than an inch from mine, so close that I could feel every warm word echo against me.

“Now,” he whispered, “I can concentrate with a clear head,
cher
.”

And, with that, Philippe Angier set me back on my feet, tweaking my chin and walking away.

Shadows Till Sunrise: Chapter Four

Even my boots didn’t have a response to the way Philippe had semi-snogged me and left me pulsing. They stayed dormant against me, still and silent.

I touched my tingling lips and looked after Philippe while he walked farther and farther off. That cracking smoothy. Perhaps he had cleared
his
mind, but now
mine
was faffing round,
lah-lah-lah
ing like a little girl skipping through a daisy field.

The man had said he didn’t commit but, my, he certainly could commit to giving a blazing, wickedly stunning kiss.

I kept touching my mouth as I made my way into the park. My boots’ non-reaction was rather odd, but it could very well be that they were telling me to get my mind back on business. Brilliant idea.

I tracked Philippe past a small bayou where it seemed ducks and geese had settled in for the night. Nearby, there were train tracks, and I could imagine a mini-train puttering about during the day, carrying apple-cheeked children from Storyland, which I somehow knew was also in the park. How horrific was it that these tracks and a train carrying such innocence would always pass the site of the murders?

Up ahead, Philippe was approaching one of the park’s massive trees. This one was squared off by yellow crime tape. The stately museum next to it was lit, looming over a fountain. No one was about, and I wasn’t certain if that was because of last night’s murders or because the museum—and nearby Storyland—was closed.

But the majority of the park was supposed to still be open right now, and I glanced about so Philippe might sneak under the crime tape and stand in front of the Dueling Oak, doing his psychic thing with it. I was also watching for the law in case they weren’t finished processing the scene, and I stayed alert for any cameras they might have set to record to see if a murderer would revisit the scene of his crime.

Fortunately, there was nothing in the area that seemed a threat, except for more and more dark oaks. Some of their thick, giant-limbed branches were even propped up by poles because they couldn’t manage their own weight. If only they could tell us what they had witnessed last night.

I waited to see if my boots might connect to the trees—after all, they were all nature’s children—but the vines stayed quiet against my legs.

When I turned round again, Philippe was crouching by the Dueling Oak, touching the trunk. His shoulders were stiff, his head bent, the moss seeming to reach down from the branches at him.

Instinct whispered to me, telling me to stay close, even if the wanker had brazenly stolen a kiss from me.

I was ten feet away from him when he suddenly reared back his head, utterly frozen.

“Philippe?” I whispered harshly.

But he didn’t stir. My pulse jiggered, and I found myself bending low to the ground, creeping toward him and looking round like a commando. I didn’t even stop to think how perfectly natural my movements were.

Philippe pulled away from the tree, his back hunched as he sucked in air.

“What?” I asked.

“Michelle,” he said raggedly. “Goddammit, what he did to her…”

I didn’t cross the crime tape—it felt as if that territory belonged to Philippe—but I was near enough so that he could keep whispering.

“Everything I saw in my first vision last night was right on, but being inside her head with a touch reading now…” Philippe slowly rose to a stand, all power and anger. “I could see how the killer lured Michelle to the park after he knocked out Matt back on the streets. The phantom told her that she would serve as witness to their duel and his claim of honor, and if she ran away, she would never see Matt again.”

“So she came willingly? He didn’t have to drag her here?”

Philippe only nodded.

I kept sweeping the area with my gaze. “He doesn’t sound like a gentleman to me.”

“No. We’re dealing with somethin’ that might only think he’s a gentleman.” Philippe ran a hand over his hair. “He already had his sabers and rope waiting by the tree, like a murder kit, and he surprised Michelle by tying her to the trunk. He chided her for fighting him, saying that he wouldn’t have to tie her up if she cooperated. All the while, I could feel her fear…Goddamn it, her fear…”

He didn’t have to elaborate, because I could only imagine what Michelle had been through. Had I wreaked that sort of terror on anyone in my life while guarding that master vampire dragon?

Most likely.

Philippe meandered back to the oak’s trunk, which looked as if it had been gouged recently. By a saber?