You’ll Understand When You’re Dead: Broken Heart Vampires Book 12 (10 page)

Natalie’s scent teased his nostrils, and her sounds of pleasure accented his own. He knew she was close, so close...he stilled her hips and flipped her over, withdrawing.

She cried out, her closed eyes flying open. “Matt!”

“Hang on, sweetheart,” he murmured. He clicked on the small lamp near the bed and looked at Natalie. Her gorgeous hair spread over the pillow and her shoulders. He stroked her temple, smiling at her half-lidded gaze begging for him to finish the act she’d started. Then he looked at her lips, swollen from her earlier loving of him.

Both temptress and innocent.

He felt an emotion so tender, its very softness sliced him to the core. She was his woman now, and his alone, and he would not waste one minute. He kissed her, tasting himself on her lips. Raising above her, he watched her watch him. His emotions made him quake inside. He thought he’d known love before, but he hadn’t. He’d never felt this way before about another person in his life. Ever.

“What is it?” she asked, tasting his skin. The flick of her tongue against his nipple made him shudder. Damn, she felt good.

Matt nipped her shoulder. She bucked against him, but he pulled back. She stared at him, frustration and need evident in her dark gaze.

He looked at her body, his gaze devouring every perfect inch of her. He put his fingers against her neck, feathering her skin lightly. She trembled, and he knew she was experiencing the same ache claiming him. He stroked a slow line to her breast, encircled her nipple, and then touched her ribs, stomach, and hip. She moaned softly as his fingers trailed to her center. He hesitated and put his thumb against her core. Her gasp was sharp, insistent. She was wet, warm...ready.

She moved against his touch, and Matt thought about ending the whole game. He needed to feel her around him.

He couldn’t explain the jolt of electricity echoing through him. He pressed his palm against her mound, dipping a finger into her.

Matt groaned and covered her, allowing his erection to slide against the nest of curls hiding her sensitive flesh. She adjusted her position, and Matt felt her hands on his buttocks, urging him to enter.

Her gaze was liquid, hot.

The fire, the need, roared through him.

Natalie pulled him close, and he plowed into her with one swift stroke, his orgasm so close, he had to stop. Natalie didn’t, though, her hips rose and fell, taking him completely. She clutched his shoulders, wrapped her legs around his waist as she pushed upward. A long, low moan escaped, then she pulsated around him, her woman’s rhythm shattering his tenuous control. Matt exploded, thrusting deeply, Natalie’s name escaping his lips as he tumbled over oblivion’s edge.

N
EAR MORNING
, THEY’D finally left the bedroom for the kitchen. “What is this?” Natalie asked as Matt put the loaded plate on the table.

Food hunger had temporarily overcome other appetites. Natalie looked at the microwave’s clock. Five a.m. Her time with Matt was ending too quickly.

“I need to go home,” she said. “Dawn will be here soon.”

“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll watch over you.”

Natalie inhaled, smelling the rich scents of eggs, bacon, sausage, and biscuits. She grinned at him. “This is your idea of breakfast?”

“It’s my Heart Attack on a Plate special. Dig in.” He poured coffee and gave her a wolfish grin. “You look too tempting in my shirt. I’m not done ravishing you.”

Her fork clattered to the table. “I’m finished. Besides those shorts have to go. I prefer you naked.”

“Thank God,” he murmured. Then he wagged his eyebrows. “You need food to keep up your energy level.”

“You mean you do. My energy level’s fine,” she said, but picked up the fork and began to eat. The food was wonderful, but more wonderful still was Matt’s preparation of it. It seemed like such a husbandly thing to do.

“I need to tell you something.”

Natalie put her fork down and folded her hands. She suspected Matt did not share much about his life with others. He looked like a vulnerable little boy, beseeching her forgiveness.

“You know I used to be a Vedere psychic. I was engaged to another Vedere, a woman named Vera.”

“Vera Vedere?”

He laughed. “No. Vera Williams.”

“The Vederes are close knit. Some factions are arrogant and feel superior. Vera came from one of those. She was power hungry. I didn’t know it at the time, but she’s willing to do anything to climb to the top of Vedere ruling council. Including marry a man she didn’t love.”

Natalie felt a rush of sympathy coupled with anger. How could anyone who knew Matt for two seconds not love him? “I’m sorry.” She reached across the table and squeezed his hand.

“I found her in bed with another councilman. And then I began to understand that was only the first of her betrayals. The Vederes are not to be trusted,” he said. “Taking myself out of their game put a dent into their political scrambles. I thought I loved Vera, but Natalie … what I felt for that woman isn’t even one-tenth of how I feel about you.”

“I love you, too.”

Matt gestured around them. “We can change anything in this house. We’ll redo it however you want. Or we can live in your house. Or we can buy a new one. Whatever you want, Natalie. Talk it over with Kimmie. This will affect her to. I just want you happy. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy.”

She loved that he thought about her daughter, taking her kid’s well-being into consideration. “You make me happy.” She went to him and sat on his lap.

His eyes darkened with desire. Matt trailed her ribcage slowly, settling against her hips. Warm strokes over her hips, down her thighs, then under the shirt, until his hands rested on her waist.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Matt’s fingers slipped downward and stilled. He broke the kiss, looking down at her in shock.

“I must have forgotten to put on panties.”

He swung her into his arms again and stalked out of the kitchen.

“Where are we going?” she asked even as they entered the bedroom. Matt laid her on the unmade bed and crawled next to her.

His wicked grin sent hot sparks dancing through her.

“
Y
OU MAY KISS the bride
,” Frank a.k.a. Elvis intoned.

Matt lifted Natalie’s purple veil and kissed her soundly. Cheers, whistles and clapping erupted in the stone circle. The muggy heat of another Oklahoma night didn’t bother Natalie at all. “I love you,” she whispered against his lips.

“You better,” he answered. “You’re mine forever.”

The Little People danced around. “Our god and goddess have mated,” they shouted. “Fertility is ours!”

They threw pebbles at the happy couple.

“Ow!” said Matt.

“Now, now,” said Hewie, wading through the paranormals that were knee-high to him. “That’s enough pelting.” He dotted his eyes with a handkerchief. “That was best Glimmerrod and Sparklenose ceremony I’ve ever seen. Elvis was a nice touch.”

“Oh dear,” Bettie said, sobbing. “It was so beautiful when he sang ‘Love Me Tender’.”

Bettie hugged them both. Others came forward offering best wishes and congratulations and knowing grins. Matt accepted hugs and kisses, keeping his arm tight around Natalie.

Jessica and Eva bestowed kisses and whispered sex advice, and made Natalie laugh.

“Mom!”

Matt and Natalie turned and saw Kimmie, Hayden, Tilda and Jenny standing nearby.

Kimmie hugged Natalie, then Matt. Joyous tears glittered in her eyes. “You’re happy, Mom. I’m happy. We are so...”

“Happy,” Jenny said sardonically.

“Elvis has the Cadillac ready. Go start your honeymoon!”

Matt grabbed Natalie’s hand. “That’s best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Her brows rose. “Oh really?”

“Second best,” he amended quickly, then pulled her into his embrace and kissed her breathless.

“Wait,” Natalie said.

Matt raised a question brow. “For what?”

Natalie nodded to Kimmie, and her daughter carried over a perfectly, golden brown, deep-dish apple pie. Natalie grinned at the befuddled expression on Matt’s face. “I promised you pie.”

“You certainly did,” he said.

He kissed her hard with a fervor Natalie would definitely explore later. When he broke from the kiss, Natalie hadn’t realized Kimmie had moved in so close to them, and her elbow whacked her daughter’s arm, sending the pie catapulting into the air. It finally landed in a heap next to a crowd of Little People, who screamed and ran away.

“Oops,” said Natalie.

Matt laughed and then swooped his bride downward, kissing her silly.

They left the stone circle and walked through the field toward the pink Caddy. Trailed by well-wishers, birdseed flew skyward, and scattered across the ground and the Caddy.

Matt tucked his bride inside the car, then rounded the trunk, getting into the other side.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah,” said Natalie. “Ready.”

S
OPHIE LENNOX STARED
at the watery muck because she had always faced reality head-on ... and, well, she had no other choice. She’d rather stare at the ground, anyway, because the other option was to stare at her breasts as gravity slowly squeezed them out of her pink bikini top.

If only she could shift. But going werewolf now would only complicate the already complicated mess.

At least hanging upside down from the seven foot Ladder of Doom had certain advantages. Since all the blood had rushed to her head, she no longer felt the pain in her rope-entangled feet. She sighed. The low breath skimmed down her heated face; she got a whiff of the faded mint smell of her toothpaste. Oh good. At least she’d have decent breath when she expired from the heat…if she didn’t die of embarrassment first.

Painting her grandmother’s shutters “Gingerbread Pink” should have been easy. When she tied the ropes around the paint cans and looped them over the ladder’s tray, she raised and lowered the heavy cans several times. Then she climbed up, putting her weight on the step with the printed warning “Do Not Stand On This.” The ladder wiggled. She wiggled. She fell backwards. The ropes wrapped around her ankles, suspending her above The Hole.

Attempts to reach up and disentangle her feet had been useless. Help was nowhere near thanks to the location of the decrepit old house. In Broken Heart, no one could hear you scream.

Ha, ha.

Well, no one in the vampire seniors nudist colony, which was just up the road. Come to think of it, she would prefer not to be rescued by the wrinkly, naked undead. Where the heck was her grandmother? How long did it take to pick up a few groceries? Sophie groaned. She’d been trapped on this stupid ladder for…

Aeons.

Hours.

She turned her wrist over and read the upside-down digital display. Oh.

Five minutes.

Her left breast shifted, threatening to expose its nipple. She tucked it in, wondering if she dared to untie and re-tie her bathing suit top. It needed to be tightened if she hoped to keep her breasts covered. Her gaze flitted around the side yard. The six-foot-tall fence a few feet away separated Gran’s home from the nextdoor neighbor’s. The bushes beside the ladder concealed most of her and, since they loved on the road to nowhere, she had o fear being seen by passing motorists. Or werewolves.

Wouldn’t her friends just die? They would never let her forget.

Goddess, please kill me.

The right breast crept toward freedom.

Frustration shot through her. “All right. That’s it!”

Damned if she was going to die suspended upside-down from a ladder with her breasts dangling from her bikini top like discarded Christmas-tree ornaments. Sophie reached behind her back and fumbled with the string. All she had to do was tighten it. Maybe she could just pull the loops—

The string loosened and released. The top swung off and dangled from her neck.

A string of curses erupted from her as she grabbed the top and pushed it against her uncooperative bosom. She couldn’t get her boobs into position
and
re-tie the top. She pressed the material and her arms against her chest and closed her eyes in despair.

“Werewolf yoga?”

The deep, masculine voice startled Sophie. Her eyes flew open and she found herself staring at a jean-clad crotch. She closed her eyes, and opened them. The bulge was still there. It was rather large, she noticed.

What the hell was she thinking?

She tried to wriggle away, but swayed forward, bumping into
it.

The man jumped back, missing the water-filled hole by scant inches. Mortification scorched her cheeks.
I’m half-naked, upside down, and now I’ve informally met a stranger’s genitals.

The jeans moved forward. Her gaze riveted to the steel buttons glinting in the morning sunshine. Irrational panic consumed her.

The crotch was returning.

Sophie screamed. The man retreated. He hunkered down, his expression one of concern. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

She swallowed her embarrassment, feeling foolish. “I’m fine. Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Daniel. You must be Sophie.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I met Virginia yesterday. She offered me the garage apartment in exchange for helping fix up the house.”

Her grandmother hired some random werewolf dude to help with repairs?
What am I? Chopped liver?
She could smell his otherness. Daniel was definitely a werewolf. But she’d never seen him before. And in Broken Heart, everyone knew everyone.

He frowned. No, smiled. Sophie bent her neck, getting a sideways view of his face instead of an upside-down one. He was too young to be a neighbor and too handsome to be a comfort. He’d done nothing threatening. It wasn’t his fault, his, er, bulge was eye level to her or that she was bumbling idiot. Sweat dripped from her brow as her body protested its unnatural position. Her arms had lost sensation, and her breasts were about to introduce themselves.

“Thanks for offering to help, but I’ll just wait for my grandmother.”

“I’m not leaving you here like this. You look like you’re in pain and the ropes haven’t been too kind to your ankles. They’re bleeding.”

“Oh.” She swallowed heavily. “My bikini top, uh, came loose.”

“I see.”

“You do? Oh my God!” She looked at her chest, but her arms still provided sufficient cover.

“No, no. I don’t see your—I can’t see anything. I meant I understood.” He looked away, and then returned his gaze to hers. His eyes were dark brown, reminding her of her favorite chocolate truffles. They held an indecipherable emotion in check. She suspected he found some humor in the situation and she felt grateful he hadn’t laughed. “Do you want me to help you tie your bathing suit top?”

Her expression must have revealed her answer because before she could blurt out
Hell no!
, he stood and took off his white T-shirt. He squatted again then pushed the shirt over her head, gently tugging her ponytail through. “Do you think you can get your arms through it?”

She nodded.

“I’ll go away and you holler when you’re ready.”

Sophie waited for him disappear around the corner of the house. She hurriedly put on the shirt and tugged the end over her stomach. Her arms felt achy and tingly, but she held onto the bottom seam for dear life. “Okay!”

He jogged back to her and grabbed the end of the shirt. “I’ll tie it in a knot. It should hold until I get you untangled.” His hands covered hers and suddenly the cold tingles pricking her fingers heated. “Your arms must feel like they’re going to fall out of their sockets.”

She nodded and reluctantly let go of the shirt. As he tied a tight, efficient knot, his knuckles brushed her abdomen. Her muscles tensed. When he stepped back to survey the ladder, she released a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

Daniel shook his head. “How did you manage to get the ladder between the holly bushes,” he pointed to the puddle, “this swamp and the house?”

“I’m very talented,” she grumbled. “Do what you have to, but do it quickly because I can’t feel my feet anymore.”

“Wrap your arms around me and hang on so you won’t fall when I get you loose. I’ll hold onto your legs and lower you to the ground.”

Humiliation flooded her as the man stood and reached for her feet. Her breasts pressed against his flat stomach as she tucked her face between his legs. She hugged his muscular thighs and tried not think about the man’s anatomy, in particular, the part located under her chin.

Sophie felt his grip around her knees as he tugged on the ropes. Then she felt a warm palm sliding between her thighs.

The ropes loosened, and her knees connected with his shoulders as her feet were freed. He tilted, his sneakered feet scrambling for purchase on the wet grass. His grip on her legs tightened and Sophie had no choice but to hold on for dear life as they both tumbled into the puddle.

Sophie spluttered as gritty water showered her face and filled her mouth. Since she’d landed on top, she had the advantage. She quickly turned around and plunked herself squarely on the man’s chest with enough force to expel whatever air he had left in his lungs—which couldn’t be much considering how hard he’d smacked into the ground. Mud and grass covered his face and hair and most of his clothes. A pair of brown eyes blinked at her as he tried to draw in a breath.

Sophie put her hand against his throat, pressing against his windpipe.

“I surrender,” he gasped out, holding up his hands.

“What are you really doing here?”

“Rescuing a crazy-assed werewolf.” Then he grinned, his teeth flashing white through his muddied features. His stomach muscles flexed under her rear end and Sophie realized he was
allowing
her to sit on his chest and bully him.

The realization came too late. Before Sophie could scramble off, he grabbed her wrists and flipped her onto her back. Her werewolf surfaced and began to growl.

“Whoa, now.” His eyes held a teasing glint, and his body was relaxed, not rigid with tension or intent to harm. What an odd thing to realize about a serial killer, she thought dazedly. She probably had a concussion.

Sophie considered her options. She could knee him, she supposed. She flexed her fingers, noting that his hands lightly held her wrists.

For a long moment they stared at each other, panting heavily. A woodsy scent—his cologne—filtered into her senses. She heard the buzz of bees around the honeysuckle bushes, the start of a lawnmower, the rapid beating of her own heart.

“Sophie!” Gran’s voice trilled. “I see you’ve met Daniel.”

The man rolled off Sophie. She balanced on her elbows and stared at her grandmother.

Gran smiled down as if Sophie and Daniel weren’t covered in mud. “Daniel, er, Mr. Clayton is my new handyman. He’s going to help us with the house.”

“You could’ve told me that yesterday,” accused Sophie.

“I forgot, dear. I’m old.” Gran’s gaze transferred from Sophie’s mud-spattered clothes to the ladder. “What were you doing?”

“Painting the shutters,” answered Sophie. She glanced at Daniel, who was trying to wipe the mud off his face and chest. The curly brown hair on his chest narrowed down his washboard stomach, the silky line of hair disappearing into the jeans. Tan, muscled, and good-looking. She looked at her grandmother and frowned. Suspicion crept through Sophie like a cautious spider.

“Where did you find Daniel?”

“Damian recommended him.”

“You consulted with the king of werewolves about a handyman?” Sophie eyed Daniel, who shrugged. “Seriously?”

Gran tsked tsked, then made shooing motions at Sophie. “Go take a shower, Sophie. Daniel, you need one, too. Go on, now, both of you!”

“Virginia! Are you suggesting I shower with this woman?”

“Daniel, you devil!” Gran slapped her thigh and hooted.

Sophie whirled around.

Daniel’s mouth quirked up at the corners, amusement dancing in his brown eyes. He shrugged. “If it means keeping my job, I’ll suffer through it,” he said sadly.

Sophie fumed at the pitiful look he sent her. It was laced with just enough lasciviousness to make her want to poke out his eyes.

“Of course, you won’t be shower-sharing with my granddaughter. It’s not proper.” Gran winked at Sophie. “Fun, but definitely not proper.”

Sophie escaped to the back of the house. She trudged up the three steps and opened the screen door. She plopped down on the floor of the enclosed porch and began to take off her dirty socks and shoes. She managed to get her left foot free, but the right shoe had a lace full of knots.

Something about Daniel Clayton bothered her. He was too...handsome, she decided. And he had an irritating dimple near the right corner of his mouth.

Until recently, Sophie believed people had good intentions. She believed in giving everyone the benefit of a doubt and second chances, but after … well,
after
, she’d re-evaluated her position on positive thinking.

Positivity could get you killed.

The door screeched and Sophie looked up. Daniel entered, his muscled torso gleaming with sweat and dirt. She tore her gaze from the view and concentrated on the knots in the tennis shoe strings.

“Need help?”

Startled, Sophie dropped the strings. “No thanks.”

He tilted his head. “I’m sorry I saw your panties.”

“You saw my—oh, crap,” she said, again gripping her slimy shoe strings, “I don’t want to discuss my underwear.”

“Red’s my favorite color.”

Sophie pretended not to hear him.

“I saw the scar on your back, too.”

Sophie stilled. She didn’t like talking about the scar with anyone—not even Gran. She blew out a breath. “I’d rather talk about my amazing red panties.”

“I recognize that kind of wound,” he said gently. “Where did the Alberich find you?”

“Who says they did?”

“Your scar.”

Fuck this.
She used werewolf strength to shred the stubborn lace and whipped off her shoe and sock. She dumped them into a pile, and stood up. “Don’t plan on sticking around,” she said. “We don’t need your help.”

Sophie whirled around, bare feet prickled by the uneven floor, heading toward the door that led into the house. And away from Daniel.

“Sophie.”

Her hand clenched the old metal handle. She looked over her shoulder. “What?”

“I have one, too,” he said. He turned around and for the first time, she noticed the long thick scar flared at both ends.

She’d never met anyone else who’d survived an Alberich attack. The ancient hunters were thought to be extinct—and no longer a threat to werewolves. But a new order had arisen, and its ranks had started tracking werewolves.

And killing them.

Daniel turned back around, his gaze sympathetic. “We’re lucky.”

Sophie shook her head. “Not all of us.”

Tears threatening, she hurried into the house—trying to run from the emotions churned up by Daniel, and the past that never seemed too far behind.