Bittersweet Blood (19 page)

Maybe Graham had it wrong and Christian just saw her as some sort of responsibility. Or he’d thought the whole thing through and decided he did hate her after all. Because she was a demon. Horror flashed through her as she searched his expression.

“Graham said you needed help.” Christian spoke into the silence between them, and she jumped.

“Sorry?”

“You have a problem you believe I can help you with.”

“I do?” She shook her head to get her brain working but couldn’t shift it from the idea of Christian hating her. “Do you hate me?” The question popped out before she could stop it.

He frowned. “What?”

“You’ve thought about it haven’t you? About me, I mean, and you’ve decided that I’m some sort of evil demon monster, and you hate me.”

“Tara,” he said, “what are you talking about?”

“You and me. You told me to come to you, but now I have, and you’re so cold, and it must be because you’ve realized I’m a monster, like the monsters that killed your family.” She blinked, her eyes stinging. “I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

He knocked back his chair and rose to his feet. “Stay where you are.”

Tara had been about to turn tail and run but, at his words, she stopped. Her eyes ate him up, her fingers itched with the need to reach out and touch him.

He walked around the desk. As always, the grace of his movements filled her with awe. He stopped in front of her and her eyes searched his face. His expression was no longer blank, but wary.

He reached for her, his hands gliding across her shoulders, and pulled her to him.

Tara stood on tiptoes and raised her face for his kiss, and his lips came down on hers with a savage desperation.

She lost herself in his kiss. Gave up her mind to him, but she needed more. Her hands slid to his hips, up over his lean belly and rib cage. They came to rest against his chest, and the muscles contracted under her touch. She dug her nails into the softness of his shirt, and he went still above her. For a moment, he held her against him, then his hands dropped from her shoulders, and he took a step back.

“Did that feel like I hate you?” His voice held a ragged edge. She licked her lips to get the last taste of him and shook her head.

“No, it’s just Graham said—then you seemed so cold and you have every reason to hate me.”

“I have no reason to hate you.”

“Maybe.”

“I was perhaps a little disappointed that you’d only come to me because you have a problem. You do have a problem, don’t you, Tara?”

“Oh, God! It’s Chloe. Christian, you have to help us. She’s—”

“Tara, slow down and sit down.” Instead of leading her to the chair by the desk, he took her hand and led her to the black leather sofa. He pushed her gently down. “There,” he said, taking the seat next to her. “Tell me.”

Tara took a deep breath, tried to sort out the facts. “You remember my friend Chloe? You met her that night at my apartment.”

“Of course.”

“Well, she’s disappeared. She hasn’t been home, and she’s not answering her cell phone. Nothing.”

“When did you last see her?”

“That night when we left for Yorkshire.”

He frowned. “Does anyone else know about this?”

“Yes, Jamie. He was supposed to see her the night we came back, but she didn’t turn up. He’s been everywhere he can think of, spoken to anybody who might know or have seen her, and it’s as if she’s vanished.”

Christian leaned back on the sofa, his head resting on the cushions, and stared into space.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that it’s unlikely your friend’s disappearance is anything to do with the other things going on in your life right now. But I don’t like coincidences and the timing is…suspicious.” He pulled out his phone and punched in a number. “Piers?”

Tara listened while he explained what had happened and finished with, “Can you find out if there was anything going on around there four nights ago?”

He put the phone down and turned to her. “He’ll get right back to me. We’ll wait, see if he comes up with anything, then decide our next move.”

“Thank you.”

His long legs stretched out in front of him. Without thought, Tara laid her palm on his thigh. The muscle tensed beneath her fingers, and his hand came down and rested on hers.

“I’d hoped you would come to me because you couldn’t stay away.” He picked up her hand and rubbed his fingers along the sensitive skin of her palm. “Each night I’ve awoken and fought the urge to come to you. Claim you. Force you to accept what you are and what we could have.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers, stroked his velvet tongue along each one until tremors ran through her body. “Each night I stayed away by telling myself you needed time.” He sucked one finger deep into his mouth, and Tara moaned with desire. He bit down with his teeth and heat flashed through her. She sat immobile, melting as he placed her hand back on his thigh, pressing it down with his palm.

“I wanted to come to you,” she said. “In fact, I never wanted you to go in the first place.”

“I believe you want me, but I also think that you’re far from happy about that. You’d still prefer me to be a nice, normal person.” There was a definite sneer in his voice when he spoke the word “normal.” “You still can’t accept what I am.”

“Yes. No.” She frowned. “Maybe. I have accepted what you are. It’s me I have the problem with. But I’m trying.” Flickers of anger stirred within her. “Is it so difficult to understand? Having demon blood has taken away everything I thought I wanted. I have to come to terms with that, but I’m working on it, okay?”

“How are you working on it?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“Every day, I stand in front of the mirror and chant, ‘I am a demon,’ fifty times. I am a demon,” she added for good measure. “There you see, I’ve been practicing, and now I can say it without hysterics.”

“Very impressive.

“Well,” she said. “If you liked that one, how about this—‘my lover is a vampire.’”

She watched him as she spoke the words. Flames leapt in his eyes and he reached for her, pulling her onto his lap and burrowing his head in her neck. His mouth was at her throat, fangs scraping across her flesh. He didn’t bite.

“Am I your lover?” he murmured against her skin.

Her body tightened in anticipation, and she realized she wanted him to bite her, wanted to feel him inside her. Deep inside.

“I hope so,” she replied. She wriggled around until her knees rested on either side of his hips and her breasts brushed against his broad chest. Raising her head, she offered her throat to his hungry gaze.

He pressed his finger over her pulse point, and the blood throbbed in her veins.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I taste you one more time, and I’ll not let you go.”

For a moment, she hesitated—was this what she really wanted? Staring into that lean predatory face so close to hers she saw the hunger clear in his silver eyes, and knew she was past the point of having a choice. “That sounds good to me,” she murmured and kissed him.

He kissed her back, his lips moving down the line of her jaw. One large hand slipped around the back of her neck, tipping her head to give him access to her throat. He pulled her closer and she went willingly, trusting him implicitly. Her breasts tightened in anticipation, and a pulse throbbed between her thighs. “Please, Christian.”

He kissed her skin softly. His mouth opened, he swiped his tongue over her, steadied her with his hand on her head, and his fangs sank into her throat.

This time she had no urge to fight him. Eyes closed, she gave herself over to the rhythmic tugging that pulled at places deep within her body.

As she relaxed against him, his hands settled on the curve of her bottom. His fingers stroked through the denim of her jeans, then moved to her hips and pulled her down harder into his lap. The hard length of his erection pressed against her core, and she rocked on him, reveling in the sensations that washed through her.

After long minutes, Christian stopped drinking. He licked at her throat, and then sat back, pulling her with him. She snuggled into his body and felt him relax beneath her.

They lay entwined, until the purr of the phone jolted her upright.

“Piers.”

Christian listened. After a minute, he replaced the phone. “Piers has heard nothing.”

“That’s good news isn’t it?”

“Probably.” He sighed. “I’d love to carry you downstairs, take you to bed, and make love to you all night long, but I think we should go make a visit to your place to see if we can find out anything about your friend.”

Tara sat up. “You think something bad has happened?”

“I don’t know, but it seems odd that she should disappear at that particular time.”

A wave of foreboding welled up inside her, and she forced herself to ask, “You think it’s something to do with me, don’t you? This is my fault.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences. We know someone is hunting you, but if they know where you live, why not take you? Why turn up when you’re not around and take your friend?” He stroked her hair. “Maybe she left for a while, forgot to mention it.”

Tara bit her lip. She was starting to feel very bad about this. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

“No, not really.”

“So, what do we do?”

“I’ll see if I can’t pick up any trace of anything unusual at your place. If we do, maybe we can borrow a couple of Piers’s hellhounds. Try and track her.”

“Hellhounds?”

“They’re the best creature for tracking. The Order keeps a pack, but hopefully we won’t need them.”

As Tara scrambled off his lap, he made no attempt to hold her. She sank in the corner of the sofa, hugging her knees to her chest and worrying her lower lip. She tried to give herself the courage to ask the question that had been haunting her since her return from Yorkshire.

“Why did my mother go to so much trouble to hide me? Who wants to find me? And why? What do they want me for?”

“I don’t know. I think our best lead will be finding the warlock who made your talisman. He may be able to identify your mother.”

“Your old girlfriend was looking into it wasn’t she? Have you heard anything?”

He shook his head. “I’ll get Piers to sort it out. Chase up Ella. Now, let’s go see if we can find your friend.”

“Okay, but maybe I’ll give Jamie a call first. Make sure he hasn’t found anything new.”

Jamie didn’t answer so she put the phone back in her bag.

“You can try again later. Come on.”

Five minutes later, she sat beside Christian in the black four-wheel drive in the underground garage. He reached forward to turn on the ignition when his cell phone rang.

He flipped it open. “Piers?”

He listened for a moment, a frown forming on his face.

“I’m just leaving,” he said. “I’ll wait ten minutes—give your guys time to get here. Tell them to make sure nothing follows us, and let me know how it goes.” He disconnected and spoke to Tara. “They’re picking up demon activity again, lots of it.”

“Where?”

“Right here.”

A shudder ran through her as she remembered the last time. “Are they coming after you?” He was silent for a moment, and Tara started to feel distinctly nervous. “What is it? What are you thinking?”

He appeared to come to a decision. “Actually, I think they may be coming after you.”

“What?”

“We know there have been demons watching this place, but they’ve been discreet, never staying long enough to get picked up and only one at a time, like they didn’t want to be noticed. The only times they’ve appeared in numbers is when you’re here.”

A ripple of unease ran through her. She’d tried to tell herself that as long as she wore the talisman she would be safe, hidden. That the people hunting for her wouldn’t find her. Unfortunately, it seemed like they already had.

“How would they have found me?” she whispered.

“I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe you were picked up by one of the demons watching this place.”

“How would they recognize me?”

“Perhaps the people in Yorkshire weren’t quite as silent on the subject as they made out. If they were offered enough money, one of them might have talked.”

“I just wish I knew
why
they wanted me.”

Christian put his hand on her arm. “Whatever the reason, I won’t let them get you.”

She believed he would do his best to protect her, but he couldn’t be there all the time. What kind of existence could she have always looking over her shoulder wondering when they might catch up? And then what?

She tried to keep the fear from spilling into her eyes, but Christian must have seen, because he pulled her to him and held her tight against the hard strength of his body. “We’ll find out and we’ll stop it. Whatever it takes.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Do we have to worry about these demons?” Tara asked as they drove out of the building.

“Piers will have people out there by now. He’s kept agents close since we found out that they’re targeting me. They’ll stop any demons from coming after us.” He put a hand on her thigh, squeezed. “I told you I’ll take care of you.”

“I don’t want you to have to take care of me. I’m never going to be normal—I’ve accepted that, but it doesn’t mean I’ve resigned myself to hiding for the rest of my life.” Something occurred to her. “Just how long will my life be? Presuming, that is, that I don’t come to a messy end in the next five minutes.”

“Have a little faith,” he murmured.

“You said demons don’t die. Will I?”

“I think it’s unlikely.”

“So, I’m what, like some sort of immortal being?”

“Probably.”

She frowned. “How will I know?”

“You won’t die.”

“Right,” she snapped. “So I’ll just wait around and see, shall I?”

She looked out of the side window. The tinted glass made her feel a little better, knowing nothing could see her, but there appeared nothing strange going on. No gunfire, no screams, and soon they were away from the building and driving through the evening traffic toward Hampstead.

She pulled her mobile out of her bag and tried Jamie again. There was still no answer.