A Hunters Promise (12 page)

He opened the door and found the room empty. Closing the door, he wondered where the hell Quenton was. The man was always in the library. Reaper had never known a time when the other man wasn’t in residence. He walked through the stacks on the ground floor and still found nothing.

He was about to go up to the next level when Quenton walked through the main doors. The two men eyed one another until Reaper decided he would be the one to speak first. Standing here staring wasn’t getting anything accomplished.

“I’ve been thinking about our search for information,” Reaper began.

“Good, because so have I,” Quenton replied.

“Could any of these Ancients still be alive?” Reaper asked.

Quenton opened his mouth as if to speak then stopped for a long moment. Finally, he said, “That’s brilliant, actually. I don’t know if any of them still live. The problem is that Ancients will often change their names or disappear altogether. Was there anyone in particular?”

“The last guy’s journal we read? When was that written?”

“I did some research, and it was from the seventeen-hundreds. The journal had the date of seventeen fifty-four, so that’s over two-hundred fifty years ago.”

“That’s nothing,” Reaper said with a shrug. “Talon’s older than that.”

“True, but we don’t know how old the man was when he wrote that particular journal. But, you’re right. If we find him, then that will give Talon and Joelle someone to talk to. Someone with experience. Right now, we’re just shooting in the dark, and eventually, that may end up biting us.”

“Right in the ass,” Reaper agreed. “How do we find them?”

Quenton ran a hand through his dark hair. “Well, let me do some research and put feelers out to see if anyone knows anything about Feral or Lucian.”

“Would the human still be alive?”

“My first answer is no, because he was human. But who knows what happens when the bond is established? We know that Joelle drinks Talon’s blood, which is not supposed to happen because it should kill her.”

Reaper nodded slowly. “Right, so if she had to drink it, then she must receive some kind of benefit.”

“Exactly,” Quenton agreed.

“Okay, well, if you find out any more info just text me. And if I come up with anything else, I’ll text you.”

“I don’t have your number.” Quenton pulled his phone out. “In fact, I don’t know of anyone who has a Hunter’s number.”

“It’s not like it’s classified,” Reaper said. “I’ll call you, then you’ll have it.”

“You have my number?”

“Yeah, we all do. You’re the go-to guy for information so Kenshin wanted us to have it.”

“Of course,” Quenton said.

At the stiff tone, Reaper eyed the other man. He wasn’t sure what had gotten under Quenton’s skin, but something had. “So, is there a problem about us having your number?”

“No, why would there be?”

The snooty tone was back, and Reaper almost smiled. Yep, the man was definitely pissed about something. “I don’t know, but you sound like you have a stick up your ass, so I figured there was.”

Quenton huffed out a breath. “Why did you kiss me earlier? Were you making some kind of point? Did you think you were being funny?”

Reaper raised his eyebrows at the switch in conversation. “I don’t recall laughing. And the reason I did it was because I wanted to.” Before he’d said it, Reaper really hadn’t given it much thought, but yeah, he had wanted to kiss the other man. Quenton was always so buttoned up and formal, but the man had some sweet lips.

“Of course,” he said snidely, “you wanted to. So you can rush back to your pals and tell them all about it? Ah yes, poor Quenton has a crush on me, just like that ass Grimm said. Well, I showed him, didn’t I?”

Reaper shook his head. “First, I never ever kiss and tell.” He began to move slowly toward Quenton. “My lovers are my business, whether they’re men or women. And, Quenton, I’ve had men before. I like variety in my partners.”

The other man swallowed hard as Reaper pinned him against a bookcase. He leaned down till his mouth was right by Quenton’s ear, and he whispered, “If you want me to show you, you just call me. I will give you a night you will never forget.”

Gently, Reaper nuzzled the other man’s neck and ran his fangs down the large vein. Quenton shivered and gasped.

“I bet you’d make prettier sounds if I got you naked in my bed.” Reaper backed up until he could catch and hold Quenton’s gaze. “One night, that’s all. You say when, and I’ll tell you how.”

He turned and left the library.

Quenton pressed a hand to his neck and shuddered.
Oh hell
, he thought,
I am in trouble
. Damn, he wanted. He so wanted to dial Reaper’s number. Wanted the chance to spend the night not sleeping in the man’s bed. But if he did, then what? He knew, from talking to Grimm, the man did not keep bed partners. The longest Reaper had ever spent with someone was three nights or, at least, that’s what Grimm had told him. Could Quenton do that?

Would he
want
to do that, was a better question. Once sex was introduced, neither party could go back. You couldn’t undo it, and you couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen. No matter what anyone would like to pretend. Quenton didn’t know if he could be that kind of person.
Yes, but it’s Reaper
, the voice in his mind whispered.
You’ve been drooling after him for over a year now.

But should a person really get everything he wanted? What if the reality sucked? Quenton almost laughed. Yeah, he doubted it. The flipside of that was what if the experience was so totally overwhelmingly awesome? How could it be matched?

Quenton shook his head; making any choice right now was ridiculous. He needed space and time. The outcome needed to be rational, or as rational as having sex with someone so wildly inappropriate could be. He’d just think about it over the next couple days. That was the only sane thing to do. Unfortunately, Quenton already knew what he was going to do, no matter what decision he came to. He just had to figure out where to get the courage to make the call.

* * * *

Aislinn stretched and yawned. Blinking, she realized she was on a bed and couldn’t figure out how she’d gotten there. The last place she remembered being was on the couch with Charon. She rubbed her face. It still felt swollen from crying. She hated crying. It never did any good. But, this time was different. She felt lighter, better. She’d talked about what happened to her and had been believed. That was something new. No one ever believed her, but hell, these people were vampires. Of course they would believe her. And Charon said he would check to see if the man had been caught.

A small sound made her turn her head. Charon lay beside her, eyes closed. He breathed evenly, which told her he was still asleep. Aislinn rolled to her side to watch him. He was so strong and infinitely dangerous, but he was always careful with her. Even when he trained her, he was careful. He took care of her and, yet, let her do her own thing.

“What’s wrong, Irish?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep.

She smiled. Eyes closed, he still knew it was her. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He opened those incredibly dark eyes and watched her. “Are you okay?”

“I feel good. How are you?”

He frowned slightly, and Aislinn reached up to massage away the wrinkle between his eyes. She’d never initiated contact between them, and it surprised her. But she liked it. Liked touching him. He must have liked it, too, since he scooted closer. Slowly, she moved her fingers down the bridge of his nose. He smiled slightly when she began to circle his lips. Before she could react, though, he opened his mouth and captured her finger. He swirled his tongue around her finger, and she went wet. She remembered what it felt like when he’d done that between her legs.

She pulled her finger out of his mouth then slowly lifted his lip up. Anticipating her, he opened his mouth so she could see his fangs. Tentatively, she touched one, and he shivered.

“Are they sensitive?” she whispered.

“When you touch them.” His voice was low and growly. She liked it.

She watched as his fangs lengthened. Instead of scaring her, they intrigued her. Apparently, what was happening to him was because of her. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only one affected. She pulled her hand away, and his fangs receded, but not to the size of regular teeth. They were longer and sharper. No matter what, they signaled he was a predator.

“Are you scared?”

“No,” she murmured, shaking her head.

“Good,” he said as he leaned forward and captured her lips in a heated kiss.

Charon moved so that he half-lay over Aislinn. He wanted to feel her body with his. He needed to feel her. Truthfully, he wanted to rip her clothes off, but knew he had to take his time. She had never been with anyone before. That, too, turned him on. He would be her first. He would be her only. He would kill anyone who even thought to touch her.

Her tentative exploration of his fangs had nearly broken him. He’d never thought about his teeth before. They were the way he fed. But when she had touched them, he’d nearly come in his pants. All he wanted to do was sink them into her skin, but knew he couldn’t. He’d promised her he wouldn’t. Fuck, but he wanted to.

He pulled away. She lay under him, panting. Watching her, he slid a hand under her shirt and cupped her bra-clad breast. He wanted her, but wanted to make sure she was with him. He didn’t want to scare her, not Irish.

Reaching down, she grabbed the hem of the shirt and pulled it over her head. She tossed it on the floor then reached back and unclasped the bra. When that joined the shirt, she was beautifully naked from the waist up. He palmed both breasts and squeezed as the nipples scraped against his flesh.

“Please,” she said as she ran her hands up his arms.

“Tell me what you want, Irish.” He took one of her nipples into his mouth as he kept his hand on her other breast. He licked as she bucked under him.

“Would you… I’ve never… I want…” She panted raggedly.

He kissed and nipped up her chest until he took her lips again. She wrapped her arms around him and molded her body to his. When he eased his tongue into her mouth, she sucked on it as if it was his cock. Reaching down, he popped the button on her pants and pulled them off of her. He needed her naked, wanted to feel and touch and taste.

Immediately, she spread her legs as he slid a hand down to tease and touch her pussy. She was so wet, and his mouth watered at the remembered taste of her. He wanted it again. He pulled his mouth from hers and moved down her body.

“Shirt off,” she ordered, panting as she grasped the back of his black tee.

More than willing to oblige, he ripped it off and quickly shucked his pants. She stared at him, and he wondered if perhaps he’d gone too far.

“I want to have sex with you,” he told her in a guttural tone. “If you don’t want it, say so now.”

“I want it all. Anything and everything you want to do to me.” She lay back on the bed. “Is that wrong?”

“No, Irish, it’s gonna feel so right.” He eased down between her legs and pressed his mouth to her. She let out a shuddering moan and grabbed his hair to pull him closer. Charon nipped gently at her clit, and she shuddered as the orgasm ran through her. He’d never had a lover so responsive, so hot. And Aislinn said she wanted it all. Damn, he couldn’t wait to give it to her.

Aislinn gasped. The things Charon did with his mouth had to be illegal. Thank goodness he did them to her. She told him she wanted it all. The rational part of her mind told her she was crazy, but the rest of her didn’t care. The rational part of her mind told her the man between her thighs was a vampire. The rest of her was just glad he was between her thighs.

He kissed and licked up her body as she ran her hands over his arms and down his back. He was so big and so strong, yet he shuddered and gasped, too. She refused to be like an idiot heroine in a cheesy romance and lay back and let him do all the work. Hell no, she wanted to touch him and kiss him and lick him.

He took her lips again in a searing kiss as she ran her hands down his chest. She wanted to touch his penis. She could feel it brush against her, but she wanted to touch it and handle it. Soon, it would be deep in her body, and she didn’t want Charon to think she was afraid. He froze when her hand closed around him. He was big and hot and hard, yet the skin was soft and roped with veins. She ran her hand up and down experimentally. He shivered and moaned against her mouth.

He pushed himself away from her hands. “If you keep touching me I won’t last. Your hand feels too good.”

“I like touching you.”

“Damn, Irish, I’m trying to take my time. Make it good for you.”

“It already is good. I want to feel you inside of me.”

At her words, his fangs lengthened, and he growled. He couldn’t help it, but she didn’t look scared. In fact, she reached for his cock again. He should have dodged her hand, but damn, he wanted her touch. He gritted his teeth as she stroked up and down the length. He couldn’t stop himself from watching as she touched the bead of pre-cum that leaked from the head. Hesitantly, she licked her finger to taste him, and he almost lost it.