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Authors: Tracy Cooper-Posey

Tags: #A Vampire Menage Gargoyle Urban Fantasy Romance

Beauty's Beasts (4 page)

BOOK: Beauty's Beasts
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Nicholas wanted her. He was staring at her, his hard cock beating against her, an almost surprised expression on his face. His hand, the hand that had held the katana against her throat, lifted up and touched her lips, almost delicately, like he wanted to make sure they were real.

She nearly cried out at the touch. She didn’t dare reach for him. Something held her back. Lust was surging through her, swelling in waves, but an instinct held her back, warned her that if she reached for him, she would lose something….

Damian shoved at Nicholas’ shoulder, sending him rolling across the cleared floor. “Move your butt,” he complained. “Riley needs food, or have you forgotten that particular human rite?” He held a hand out to help Riley to her feet. She was grateful for the assistance. She was shaky. Very shaky.

“Bathroom is over there,” Damian said, pointing to the corner where the studio had no windows, but three doors led to other small rooms. “Shower and change. I’ll take you out to a late lunch, then on to the exhibition.”

She glanced over her shoulder. Nicholas was sitting on the floor still, his leg cocked. As she looked, he pushed a hand through his hair. He didn’t look at her.

“Exhibition?” she asked Damian.

“You are about to meet Lirgon…in his stone sleep.”

* * * * *

New York seemed warmer than Pittsburg, so Riley put on jeans and a lace-edged tank-top, and flat sandals. She had forgotten to pack her hair straightener, so she did the best she could with the hair dryer that was in the bathroom, but it meant there was way too much curl in her hair to suit her when she stepped out of the bathroom.

Nicholas was working at the desk in the far corner and didn’t turn around. She suspected he was ignoring her deliberately. That was fine by her.

Damian, though, shook his head. “You need a jacket or a coat.”

“It’s fifty degrees out there.”

“Where are you going to stash this? It will not fit in your hip pocket.” He held up a dark colored knife with a long blade. “You have to remember, there are creatures out there who consider you a legitimate target now.”

“Because I had a demon hunter mother? This sucks.”

“Also because you travel with vampires. You are in a different world now, Riley. One where war rages, and races have battled for millennia.”

She took the knife. “It’s not steel.”

“It is highly compressed carbon fiber, and won’t show on scans if you have to go through security in some of the buildings in New York.” He moved to the closet by the front door and pulled out his own coat. “An appropriate coat and shoes is going to have to be our first stop for you.”

“What’s wrong with my sandals?” she asked.

“You can’t hold your footing in those,” Nicholas said, without turning his head. “Or climb buildings.”

Damian tucked the knife deep inside his own coat. “Or kick men in the groin.” He winked and held open the door. “Food?” he coaxed and waved her on.

* * * * *

At the tiny bistro on the corner where Damian took her for lunch, he surprised her by ordering food for himself. “Protective coloring,” he murmured. When the food arrived, he picked at it, rearranging it on the plate. When the diners at the next table left, he dumped half his food on their plates, so it seemed he had eaten some of his.

Riley ate all her cheese sandwich and reached for Damian’s remainders with an apologetic grimace. It wasn’t until she was nearly finished her meal that an idea came to her, and she stopped eating, astonished.

Damian smiled. “What thought just occurred to you?”

She put down his egg roll, chewed the rest of her mouthful and swallowed. She could feel herself blushing. “I haven’t had anyone hit on me,” she said. “Not a single attempt. Not even a leer.”

He picked up a piece of shredded lettuce. “But I am with you. They can see that.”

She shook her head. “Damian, you have no idea—” She halted, realizing what she would have to explain, how it would sound.

He leaned over the tiny table. “Do not forget how old I am, Riley.” He glanced around for observers, making it look casual. “I guarantee that nothing you say could possibly shock me.” His black eyes and strong jaw remained steady. Reassuring.

Riley took a mouthful of water to give herself time. “Men try to…collect me.”

He considered that. “Your mother once told me that up until she accepted her role as a demon hunter, she had a similar problem, but I suspect not quite as severe as yours. Forty years ago, there were more formal rules and stronger penalties for disobeying them.”

“What happened after she became a demon hunter?”

Damian’s lips pushed out into a sort of pout as he considered. As his lips were quite full to start with, the effect was interesting. Riley stopped chewing as she watched.

“I would say your father’s presence was sufficient deterrent, but I believe that your mother herself became…intimidating.”

“Is that why no one has bothered me since we left the apartment?”

Damian shook his head. “You have not yet acquired full confidence in your skills. You do not know in your gut you are a demon hunter. Not for true.”

“Then why haven’t I had at least one guy come up and try to get my number? I know that sounds horribly arrogant, Damian, but honestly, I usually don’t eat out because I can’t have a meal in peace without some jerk insisting it ain’t right for a lady to eat alone, or that I shouldn’t be eating with that dumb jock, come eat with him.”

“You mean, they would try to pick you up even when you were with another man?”

“Yes.”

Damian shook his head. “That won’t happen while you are with me.”

“Because you’ve got confidence?” she said, puzzled.

He picked up her arm and brushed this thumb over her inner wrist, where her pulse throbbed. “Because deep in their subconscious all prey senses the presence of a predator and the survival instinct says to avoid the predator.” He smiled. “Men instinctively know I am stronger and do not attempt to challenge me. It is an old, genetic dance. So you can relax in my company and in Nicholas’ too.”

She jumped a little at the mention of his name, and looked Damian in the eye. “I can relax?”

Damian was still stroking her wrist and it was doing strange things to her pulse. He nodded, his gaze on her wrist.

“You knew what was happening after Nicholas took the sword from my throat. You sensed it. You deliberately broke it up, didn’t you?”

His gaze shifted to her eyes, abruptly. He put her arm down and sat back. It was all the confirmation she needed.

“Why?” she asked softly. “Was it jealousy? Why did you and Nicholas break up after my mother died?”

He looked out the window. “Human men are not comfortable talking about emotions, Riley. We are even less inclined.”

“Nicholas is even more reluctant than you. He can’t handle emotions at all. I pushed his pride earlier and that’s why I ended up with the katana at my throat and you having to talk him down from— what? Blood lust?”

“Rage,” Damian corrected. “I’m glad it happened, though.”

“What? Him nearly taking my head off?”

“All of it. He wants you now, Riley. He sees you. You’re not just a human anymore.”

Heat sizzled through her. Wanting. Hot lust. Her clit swelled and bloomed with need. Her nerve endings seemed to prickle and sizzle and zap.

“And what about you, Damian? Am I still just a human to you?” Her voice was edged with the thick longing running through her.

“You never have been.” He swiveled back to face her and she caught her breath at the pain and sadness in his expression. “I have struggled with this throughout my existence and never truly succeeded as Nicholas has—to separate humans from myself and make them something less, something insignificant. Their passing still touches me. Their lives still affect me. I have never learned to stay above it all, not properly.”

He pushed his uneaten food aside. “I…adored her. I didn’t know how much, until she was dead. It shocked me that I had let myself grow so close to a human, but of course it was too late. When your mother died, Riley, the bottom of my world dropped out and I blamed Nicholas for not protecting her better.” He grimaced. “And now I must watch Nicholas protect you.”

He stood up abruptly. “Let’s get you a coat and boots.” He headed for the cash register.

Her mind reeling, her body still zinging with leftover arousal, Riley pushed herself to her feet and followed.

By the time they made the pavement she had gathered her thoughts together. Damian led her into a small boutique and that prevented her from asking any questions. There, she tried on a few knee-length brushed cotton spring coats, finally settling for a cherry red one that went well with her black hair and green eyes. Damian nodded approval. “We’ll also have one in black,” he told the clerk, pulling out a perfectly ordinary credit card. The clerk beamed, clearly thinking of her commission. She led them to the cash register, wiggling her ass in Damian’s direction, perhaps hoping for a good tip into the bargain.

“Leave the red one on,” Damian told Riley.

The next stop was for boots. While Riley preferred fur-lined, ripple-soled boots that would get her through the worst Pittsburgh could throw at her during winter as she ran from building to building on-campus, or from train station to job, Damian clearly had something else in mind. The boots she finally ended up with, along with a new pair of socks, were hand-crafted leather, stylish, with built-up heels. Not too high for running, but the heel was good for catching on ladder rungs. They had a decent tread for all weather. And hidden in the toe, steel lining. Damian had liked that touch.

When the clerk had gone to get the next smaller size to try on, Damian had leaned toward her and murmured, “We can add a small blade to each boot, to be triggered when you need it.” Appalled, Riley had sat there and let the clerk slide her feet into the new boots, realizing she was acquiring new weapons, not new attire.

She walked out of the store in a mild daze. “
This
is the sort of stuff my mother used to worry about all the time? Steel-toed boots and if she could get blades into the toes? And if the lining of her new wool coat could take the weight of an Uzi?” She was trembling. “What sort of life is that?”

Damian, perhaps sensing the black cloud of her thoughts, wisely didn’t protest or try to convince her otherwise. After a few moments of silence he said, almost like he was reminiscing: “She loved dancing. Especially the tango.”

A few more steps.

“And she and your father were incredibly happy. They were almost obsessively in love.”

Riley took a deep breath, feeling the weight lift.

“Here.” Something bumped her arm.

She transferred the shopping bags to her left hand and took Damian’s wallet. He’d folded it so a section of photos in clear plastic were showing, and flipped the photos so that one was displayed. It was old. At least thirty years old and trimmed to fit into the sleeve. Black and white. A New Year’s Eve party, with balloons, streamers and champagne. About sixteen people were crowded into the frame and Riley recognized Nicholas, who looked exactly the same. And herself.

She blinked. This was her mother, then. She was laughing at the camera, held in the arms of a big man with dark hair and a strong jaw. Her father, Carson Connors. Then she noticed her mother’s swelling stomach. This, then, was just before her father died. “They look so happy.”

Damian’s hand rested on the back of her neck. He took his wallet back and tucked it away. “That is one thing about all creatures that I have found consistent no matter what the race or the species. No matter how bleak the life, or dark the future, life goes on. Humans are unique in being able to find happiness in the direst of circumstances. Man is the most adaptable species I’ve ever come across.” He gave her a little shake. “You must play the hand you have been dealt, Riley. You chose to sit at the table.”

She nodded and tried to smile. But the tears were building anyway. It was a reaction to everything that had happen in the tightly compacted eighteen hours since she had left Pittsburgh. Her vision blurred and she blinked. That made them fall. Damn.

“Don’t do that to me, Riley. For pity’s sake,” Damian said, his voice low. “I can resist almost everything but a woman’s tears.”

“I’m not doing it deliberately!” She tripped a little.

Damian’s arm swept around her middle and she was being half-marched, half-carried across the pavement, out of the pushy New York pedestrian traffic, into a narrow alley between buildings. He hurried her down the alley, deep inside it, where they would have privacy and leaned her against a warm, sunny wall. Her bags were plucked from her hand. “Don’t. Please.” She sensed he was right in front of her.

She shook her head, trying to stop. But this had been a long time coming. Perhaps twenty-eight years in the making. In the last eighteen hours she had been scared, terrorized, worked to death, filled with hope, and painful memories prodded and turned.

“You think you d-don’t like having emotions? You’re not the only one!” She tried to wipe the tears away without completely ruining her makeup.

Her shoulders were lifted away from the wall again. Damian pressed her head against his shoulder. “Go on,” he said. “Get it out.” His arms came around her, solid and hard and safe.

She turned her head away from the sun and let herself cry. When her tears petered out and she was down to hiccupping and hitching, she realized that Damian was soothing her back with his hand and the other was in her hair. She liked it. She could stand here a lot longer accepting that sort of soothing. Like earlier that morning in the car, her lips were only a hair’s breadth from his neck. She could slide her tongue out and lick the flesh. Kiss it.

She could tell by the way his hands shifted against her that he was aware of her altered mood. Her heart began to race. She closed her eyes. There was nothing she could hide from these two. It was mortifying…but at the same time, it was almost relaxing. It saved a lot of conversations and misunderstandings if she could just get over being humiliated about it.

The hand on her back slid down to her hips. The fingers spread, questing. They pressed gently. Pressing her against him.

BOOK: Beauty's Beasts
5.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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