Bitten by Ecstasy: 2 (Dark Judgment) (15 page)

For the past five months, she’d been the hunted instead of the hunter. Experienced the fear of looking over her shoulder, studying every passing face and shadow with suspicion, wondering who stalked her. She understood the humility and powerlessness of being viewed as weak, overlooked for her mortality…understood being human.

Her callousness—the immortal races’ coldness—shamed her.

“Good evening and welcome to Heaven’s Gate. What can I help you with tonight?” a sultry redhead in a black minidress and killer red stilettos greeted them, her cloudless blue eyes fixed on Bastien. “Heaven’s Gate” had rolled out of her on the tail of a rumbling purr. Not human. From the feline affectation, sharp canines and slanted black irises, maybe some kind of shifter. Not that Sinéad cared. If the woman didn’t quit ogling Bastien as if he were the “nip” in her catnip, Sinéad was going to declaw this kitty. She inched her hand toward the black-handled
sgian
hidden in the top of her boot. And smiled.

A big, warm palm settled over her thigh and squeezed.

“A beer,” Bastien said. “Whatever’s on tap. And for the female,” he gave her leg another warning pinch, “a glass of red wine. Merlot, please.”

“Is that all?” she asked, lashes lowering until only a thin azure rim remained visible. “We serve all manner of,” a potent pause, “delicacies, for a variety of tastes.”

That does it.
“Yes. Privacy. Beat it,” Sinéad said bluntly and with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

The waitress’s cat-eyes narrowed. The purr disappeared, replaced by a soft hiss. She leaned forward, nostrils flaring, and Sinéad mimicked the movement, ready for when the pussycat jumped. She’d skin the bitch before she even landed on the table.

“Now sweetheart, that’s no way to act,” Bastien chided gently, sliding his hand from her thigh and lifting it to her neck. He cupped her nape in an unyielding grip, drew her closer and pressed his lips to her temple. To the redhead, the gesture may have appeared affectionate and indulgent, but the implacable clasp on her nape and the hard kiss clearly translated to,
would you shut the hell up?
“Please forgive my friend. She’s a bit green and still needs to be broken in. Very…eager, though. My apologies.”

The feline smile appeared on Red’s face once more, as did her mating call hum. “Apology accepted.” She cut her eyes at Sinéad. “Leashes are on the back wall if you find you require one.”

As she sashayed off, hips swinging like a broken pendulum, Bastien growled. The vibration buzzed over Sinéad’s skin. The sensual rumble sent a shiver through her. “What part of incognito do you not understand?”

She snorted. “The part where I let Catwoman disrespect me as if I’m a simpleton,” she shot back, voice as low as his.

“Catwoman?” He snickered, rolled his forehead over the top of her head and uttered a curse. “I swear, as soon as we return to Dublin, I’m smashing your TV into a million tiny pieces.”

As soon as we return to Dublin.
Her heart leapt toward the back of her throat before free-falling into the pit of her stomach. Surely the words had been a slip of the tongue. They sounded so permanent, but she knew Bastien didn’t want a relationship. Not with the female who’d cursed him to an existence of gnawing hunger and bloodlust. Her gut executed another dizzying dive. And after they recovered the cross and she betrayed him, he would despise her again. She couldn’t forget that.

“You agreed to play this role if I brought you along—”

“If you brought me along?” She scoffed, shoving aside the disturbing thought of Bastien looking at her with hate in his eyes and focusing on the here and now. When his wild, elemental scent embraced her. When his silken, pale hair caressed her cheek. “As if you could’ve left me behind. Besides, I have the clothes on, I left my sword behind and followed your lead in here. I think I’m doing a good job with
my role
.”

“You’re supposed to be playing the sexy, harmless human.” His fingers slid under her hair, scratched over her scalp. She smothered a groan. Hell, she almost purred. “Sexy. Yes. But you appear as harmless as a yeti after a winter fast.”

She grunted, flattered. “Save the pretty words for later. We have a job to do.”

He chuckled then released her as Red returned with their drinks. With minimal flirting, she set the beer bottle and glass on the table and left to check on another customer. Bastien lifted his unopened beer bottle, popped off the ridged cap and tipped it to his lips, drinking deeply. The strong, golden column of his throat worked as he downed the alcohol. She swallowed past the growing constriction in her windpipe, attempting to wet her suddenly dry mouth. Ripping her gaze away, she picked up the wine he’d ordered for her and sipped the dark-red liquid. The tart flavor slid over her tongue, leaving a bitter aftertaste that lingered in her mouth long after the wine was gone.

“Yech.” She grimaced, plunked the drink down and scooted it toward the middle of the table with the tip of her finger. “Nasty.”

Bastien sighed, rested his arm on his thigh and dangled the dark-brown beer bottle between his slightly spread legs. The other hand rose to capture a lock of her hair between his fingers. He toyed with the strands, glanced up at her. “I’m sorry if the three-hundred-dollar-per-bottle wine doesn’t have the sugary zest of your soda.”

“Sarcasm duly noted.”

In the blink of an eye, his expression shifted from sardonic to hot. His green eyes burned with an inner fire, rivaling the halogen lights under the stage. Soft pants burst from between his parted lips—lips that seemed fuller, more sensual in a face tightening with hunger.

“Bastien,” she whispered, taken aback by the sudden switch in his demeanor. Tension hummed through his big frame and, as he shifted, moving into her space, the room contracted to a fraction of its former size. It narrowed down to six-feet-six inches, two-hundred-and-fifty pounds.

“Shhh…” He wound her hair around his finger, reeling her forward like a doomed sailor to a siren’s rocky shore. “We have an audience,” he breathed against her lips. “Over my shoulder, to the left, four tables back. Vampire.”

“Damn, hippogryph,” she murmured. “That’s impressive.”

Leaning farther into his scent, into the warmth that puffed over her mouth, she swept her gaze over the tables, stage and clientele, zeroing in on the creature Bastien pointed out. She locked in on the male. Oh yes. Even without being able to detect the
tribmark
on his left cheek through the glamour every vampire employed to conceal the identifying brand, she would’ve pegged him. The too-perfect beauty, the marble-like, nearly impenetrable skin that gleamed even brighter in the shadowed interior. And, of course, the black, black eyes.

“Do you think he’s who we’re looking for?” she asked in a barely there voice.

“Don’t know.” Bastien pressed his forehead to hers, brushed a light kiss over her cheek. “If he isn’t, we can see if he knows where we can find a Cardei.” Tipping his head back, he stared into her eyes, traced a caress over her bottom lip. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” She nodded, adrenaline jumping in her veins. “Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker.”

Bastien blinked.

She shrugged. “It seemed appropriate. John McClane kicks ass.”

“Remote. Snatched,” he muttered, tone dark with promise. Then he sighed, blowing out a hard breath. “I
hate
bringing you in here,” he growled. “It’s like leading a lamb into a den full of lions.”

Sinéad struggled to keep a frown from slamming down on her face.
A lamb
? Could he have tried to be more offensive? “You care to repeat that, hippogryph?”

“Hell no.” He scoffed. “Do I look like a man with a death wish?” Bastien set his bottle on the tabletop, grabbed her hand and slid along the black leather of the booth. “Sue me for needing to protect you.” He dragged her out behind him and tugged her up and into the curve of his body. “And you’re right, by the way,” he murmured and flicked a fingertip down her nose. “
Die Hard
is a badass movie.” His brows formed a stern vee as he pinched her chin between his finger and thumb. “Remember. Submissive. Quiet. Harmless,” he gritted out.

“Yes, yes.”
Yada yada yada.
“Let’s go.”

He glared at her, appeared as if he wanted to reprimand her. His jaw clenched then he turned, grumbling. Though she no longer possessed heightened hearing, she still caught the words
crazy cruxim
and
get us killed
.

She waved a mental hand. He worried too much.

Her hand still clasped in his, they weaved a path through the tables and before long reached the vampire who had been studying them so intently.

“Excuse me,” Bastien said, voice as smooth as the velvet drapes hanging behind the seated male. “May we join you?”

“By all means,” came the automatic reply. The vampire rose from his chair in a single, graceful motion. The dim light cast shadows in his rich auburn hair. Unlike the brassy red of the waitress, deep fire gleamed from the immaculately groomed strands caught in a tail at the nape of his neck. Elegant in a black shirt and slacks perfectly tailored to fit the breadth of his chest and slim, narrow hips, he was beautiful.

As beautiful as a panther before it pounced and went for the jugular.

He swept an arm toward the empty chairs flanking his table. As he settled into his seat again, his gaze shifted from Bastien to her. Recalling her role, she allowed her lashes to flutter before lowering, maintaining the coy act even when the discreet nudge at her shield came. Her fingers curled tighter around Bastien’s hand, her nails digging into his skin as she fought the urge to grip the vampire by the neck and pin him to the wall.

She leaned into Bastien, gave the other male a shy smile and kept him the hell out of her head. No way was he going to have a free romp in her brain. Let him think she was a human with unusually strong shields. There were mortals born with natural steel-like mental armor. Rare, but they did exist.

“Hmmm… Interesting,” he drawled, crossing one leg over the other. He lingered on her face another long moment before switching his attention back to Bastien. “My name is Faolan.” He didn’t extend his hand in greeting as the handshake was a human custom. No immortal would voluntarily offer a stranger such a vulnerable opening to their veins, neck or torso. “I haven’t seen you here before. I’m sure I would’ve noticed.” He straightened the perfect crease in his pants. “You two make an interesting pair.”

The careful dance of words. The subtle waltz of how-much-do-you-know-and-how-much-do-I-reveal.

“Bastien. And this is Sinéad.” He paused. “She’s aware of what I am,” Bastien murmured and the curiosity in Faolan’s dark eyes flared brighter.

“I have a feeling this would make a very fascinating tale,” the vampire murmured. “Very fascinating.” Once more his gaze moved to Sinéad, traced her features. She fought not to cringe away from the visual caress. It was more of a violation than the attempted telepathic probe.

“She’s also mine,” Bastien added in a voice as smooth as a rapier’s thrust. “And I don’t share.” The possessive words were for show, but they still caused a delicious shiver to quake through her.
Mine, mine, mine
.
It bounced against the walls of her head and she wanted to reach out, grab the word and hold it close. Keep it.

“Wouldn’t dream of asking,” Faolan said, amusement sparkling in his dark eyes. He glanced behind them, lifting an arm. As soon as he curled his fingers a waitress appeared by his side. This one was petite, slender and
sidhe
, judging by the pointed tips of her ears poking through the thick, waist-length blonde hair. Both she and Faolon stared at them expectantly.

“A beer and club soda with a wedge of lime, please.” Bastien smiled at the fey female and pink stained her cheekbones. Sinéad swallowed a snort. The blush was as real as Sinéad’s shyness. In Sinéad’s experience, no
sidhe
was innocent or modest enough to blush. But then again, this hippogryph had a peculiar effect on people. His masculinity, elegance and beauty could charm the sun from the sky and have it begging to burn up the sheets with him. Humans may have reviled his scars, but obviously this fey, like the red-haired kitty, found them incredibly sexy.

As did Sinéad.

At one time, the stunning arousal would have been difficult to admit, but after days with him it was becoming easier and easier to accept. The roller coaster of emotion. The slow curl and tightening in the bottom of her stomach. The pinpricks of sensation in the tips of her breasts and the heavy primal pounding in the swollen, wet flesh between her legs. The taste of his mouth lingering on her tongue hours after their kiss. Those things couldn’t be denied or ignored. She desired Bastien. Wanted him. Pressing her cheek to his shoulder, she turned her head an inch, rubbing her skin over his shirt and the hard muscle beneath. She inhaled, taking in his wind-and-heather scent. She wanted him. Oh yes, the admission was coming much easier now.

Bastien and Faolan engaged in meaningless chitchat Sinéad couldn’t have pulled off even under the penalty of death. Her admiration for Bastien swelled. His deep, cultured voice flowed over her senses like the cool Irish mists. Nothing betrayed his unease at bringing her into this den and placing her in potential danger. He was relaxed, urbane, but dangerous as a sleeping beast.

It appeared as if Faolan too recognized the creature he sat across from. In spite of his casual demeanor and pose, she caught the slightly forward position of his shoulder and hip. No one but another fighter would have noticed the small detail. With a moment’s notice, the vampire would be able to shift to the side and quickly avoid an oncoming attack. Smart guy.