Death Takes a Holiday (5 page)

“You’re right. You’re totally right. It’s Christmas. They can fire me. I’ll book a flight tonight.”

“Oh Honey Bea, I’m so happy to hear that. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you more, you have no idea. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, precious baby girl. I’ll start cleaning your room right away. Call me with your flight info.”

“I will. I love you. Bye.” I hang up.

A getaway. No vampires. No dead bodies. No egos the size of China. Just me, Nana, and April shopping, talking, and drinking too many margaritas. And no men. Heaven here I come.

I love this bed. I really do. It’s lovely. Thousand thread count sheets, padding made of clouds, and enough room to lay wherever I want. I pull the pink comforter up to my chin and sigh. How sad is life when sleeping is the highlight of your day?

My ticket is booked, my suitcases packed, and all that’s left is to ask George for the time off. Backwards, I know, but I’m sure he’ll say yes. If he doesn’t, well, there’s always men’s Kryptonite: tears. Now I just have to—

Someone knocks lightly on my door. Great. Can’t get a moment’s peace. There is no way I’m leaving my cloud, so I say, “Come in.”

The light from the hallway frames his large body and reflects his shirtless torso. Toned with abundant pectorals and a hint of abs smattered with dark chest hair just the way I like it. How many times have I fantasized about trailing my finger down that straight line starting from the bellybutton down? The thought makes me quiver.

“Will?” I say as he steps in, shutting the door behind himself. The only light now comes from the brilliant, almost ethereal moon radiating through my window.

“I’m sorry,” he says desperately as he rushes over to me. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

“What—”

Those rough hands embrace the sides of my face, pulling me toward him. Warm lips meet mine, mashing so hard they hit teeth. At first I’m too stunned to move, but that changes fast. I kiss him back with the same ferocity. Months of longing. Months of fighting when all I wanted to do was this. Passion driving both. His tongue breaks the seal of my lips, finding mine. My body arches into his as we grip each other for dear life. He’s hot, like a tropical beach at noon. He tastes just as divine. Of peppermint, beer, and man. My fingers fan out in his soft hair, close to yanking it. Our lips continue to move in unison as if dancing while our tongues explore. I lower him on top of me, his hard body pinning me to the bed. Through his jeans I feel his erection grow. The bulge presses into my thigh. Me. I did that to him. Amazing. All that doubting, of second guessing myself. The proof of what I knew is right against me, and God do I want it inside me.

We break apart as he yanks off my top, exposing my bare breasts, my nipples hardening against the cool air. His mouth lowers as he grips my back, pulling one greedily into his mouth. I haven’t had sex in two years. I almost come as he nibbles and kisses that sensitive area. I don’t even care that I might explode his brain, I just don’t want this ecstasy to end. He moves to the other side, doing the same thing to my left nipple while caressing the spot he just abandoned. I run my fingernails down his back almost hard enough to draw blood. We moan in sync. He stops and gazes up at me, eyes hungry and wild. Like mine.

He’s wanted this too. As badly as I have. Probably from the first moment he saw me. This revelation almost drives me over the edge. “I—” he says in a low voice. I kiss him forcefully, rolling us to the center of the bed with me on top, straddling him.

“Shut up,” I say before undoing his jeans and yanking them down as he watches in awe. He knew what he wanted and dressed accordingly. No boxers. Only him. Long, wide, and ready for me. I trail my finger down his hard chest to the end of him. He shudders under my touch, and then my tongue as I play with him. I bring him to the brink but pull back at the last moment.

“Don’t stop,” he groans in equal amounts of pain and pleasure.

“You don’t get off that easy,” I say, voice husky. I take his hand in mine, sucking on two fingers, caressing them with my tongue. I scoot up so I’m hovering just above his chest, move his hand under my pajama bottoms, then gouge his fingers into my throbbing, burning center. I groan as he explores me. I move against those rough fingers. He toys until he finds that sweet spot most men never do. I cry out again, gripping the comforter. After a few seconds his fingers leave me as he clutches my wrists and flips me below him on my back. His erection presses into me, the only thing separating me from him is my thick flannel pajama bottoms.

He tears them off, and I’m totally naked. For a split second, self-consciousness floods in. I’m aware of my belly, wide thighs, stretch marks. But his lips and tongue moving down my torso, over the worry spots, quickly banish any negative thoughts. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, looking up at me before those fingers find their way inside again and that mouth is toying with me in perfect motion. All the sensations overwhelm me. I toss my head back and my body follows.

“You
are
beautiful,” a familiar voice says as a cold hand presses against my feverish breast. My eyes fly open. Oliver lies on his side, head rested on his free arm, as naked as I am. Toiling in the fields from birth to rebirth did wonders for his body. His alabaster skin glows in the moonlight. Another shiver of ecstasy rips though as Will presses his fingers deeper into me. If he knows we have a visitor, he doesn’t let on. “So beautiful.”

Oliver’s mouth presses against mine as his chilled thumb brushes over my nipple. His skin, mouth, everything is icy against my searing skin. It sends another shudder through me. The kiss is gentle, more playful, as is his tongue. As mine thrusts his parries, staying out of reach until he’s ready. I run mine over his pointed fangs.

Then it stops.

Both mouths leave my body. My eyes open, passion instantly replaced with terror. A shark-eyed, gnarling vampire hovers over me. Below a grotesque half-man/half-wolf, sharp teeth bared, growls as drool drips from those teeth. I let out a bloodcurdling scream as both sets of teeth plunge into me.

“No!”

I’m still screaming as my real eyes fly open and I battle the thick covers surrounding me. I swat at the imaginary attackers, instead just hitting pillows. My bed, with me on it, thumps up and down like a student in PE class doing jumping jacks. The TV on the wall implodes as my lamp crashes to the floor from its non-existent perch. Crap.

Another girly scream of mine fills the room as my door flies open. Will rushes in fully dressed in an oversized Redskins shirt and blue pajama bottoms. “Bea?” he asks, voice as panicked as I feel. I stop screaming, instead panting like I was just … never mind. He perches on the edge of my bed, gasping a little himself. I look around the bed getting my bearings. I’m fully dressed. No blood. No monsters.

Hard hands grip my upper arms, shaking me. “Bea?”

My eyes whip toward him, then away. I can’t look at him. I still throb from the dream. I want him as far from me as possible until I’ve calmed down. I want him gone. Right now.

Another figure materializes in the door. Oliver’s figure. He’s in the same clothes as before, and his eyes are the normal gray. Behind him Carl joins the party. I’ve woken the whole house. “What the hell happened? What did you do to her?” Oliver demands as he charges toward us.

Will releases me and turns to Oliver. “Nothing.”

My would-be protector stops a foot from the bed, poised for a fight. “Liar!” he sneers. “She was screaming!”

Will leaps off the bed. “You asshole, I’d never—”

“Shut up!” I screech. The bed levitates and falls again without my meaning it to. “It was a nightmare! Get the hell out of my room! Both of you!
Get out
!”

Neither Alpha male moves until I push them with my mind. They stumble back, getting the message. They glance at me, then begrudgingly start toward the door, first Oliver then Will a few feet behind him. Only Carl remains at the door watching them go. A moment later, I hear a door shut across the hall. Carl turns to me. “Are you okay?” he asks barely hiding his smirk.

I fall into my pillows and shut my eyes. “Nope.”

“I think it is an excellent idea,” my boss George says as he hands me a cup of coffee.

I gulp it down even though it’s my third cup in as many hours. After last night’s, um,
nightmare
I couldn’t get back to sleep. I lay in my bed doing everything I could not to think until the sun rose and I knew I’d be safe from at least one of them.

“I’m sorry I didn’t give more notice. It was just sort of an impulse.”

George lowers his tall, almost emaciated body in the chair across the desk. He’s in his seventies but doesn’t look it. He looks much, much older. Dr. George Black, parapsychologist and leader of the F.R.E.A.K.S. for over thirty-five years, who found me ten months ago and convinced me to join. He saved my life. Good guy. “It’s Christmas, allowances can be made. We’ll miss you.”

“I kind of doubt that.”

“You’re wrong.” He sighs. “But I do think your vacation will give everyone some time to reflect.”

I play with my coffee cup on the desk, not wanting to look at him as I say something I’ve been thinking about since before the sun rose. “I was actually thinking … maybe this shouldn’t just be a vacation.”

He’s silent for a moment, taking this in. I remove my hands and the cup continues spinning on the desk. “Beatrice,” George says, “these tensions are not your fault. I know that. It’s been growing for years.”

“I’m not making things any easier though. I don’t know what else to do.” The cup stops twirling.

George doesn’t respond, but his sympathetic face says everything. “I’ll arrange for someone to take you to the airport.”

“Thank you.” I stand up and walk out without another word.

The black BMW idles in front of the mansion as I walk down the steps with my two suitcases. Today is much the same as yesterday: gray, freezing, and windy. It’s been like this for almost two months, doing nothing to improve my mood. Sunny San Diego is just the remedy. I toss the suitcases in the open trunk and run to the passenger side before I freeze to death.

My heart leaps into my throat when I see my chauffeur. After a moment’s hesitation, I get in anyway.

“Put on your seat belt,” Will orders as he pulls away from the door. Nary an emotion crosses his face as we maneuver down the driveway and past the electric fence that surrounds the mansion. I gaze out the window, trying to keep my mind a blank slate. I’m about as successful now as I was last night. My cheeks flare as I remember his mouth on my breast. The sensations it brings even now. Sure it wasn’t real, but my body didn’t seem to realize it. “Want me to turn down the heat?” Will asks.

“It’s fine,” I mutter. Think of other things. The beach. Playing with the kids. Joking with April. The heat fades from my face.

“This wasn’t my idea,” he says. “George told me to pick up fuel for the flamethrowers in town and get this car serviced. I didn’t know I was dropping you off until the last minute.”

“Oh.”

“I wasn’t trying to trap you, is all.”

“I didn’t think you were.”

One of our dreaded awkward silences follows. I watch the fields of dirt go by, keeping my mind blank. He fiddles with the radio but shuts it off in frustration when he doesn’t find anything but Christmas music. The tension is so thick not even Bette could slice through it.

“Are you looking forward to seeing your family?” he finally asks.

“Yeah.”

“Well, we’ll get your room fixed before you come back.” He shakes his head. “Sorry.
If
you come back.” My stomach drops. Stupid George. Will glances at me to gauge my reaction. He’s troubled by my embarrassed face. “He wasn’t lying. You’re really thinking of quitting.”

“Just a thought.”

He looks back at the road, face tense as his mind circles. “I don’t know what to say. Do you want to quit?”

“I don’t know.” Tears bubble to the surface of my eyes, and I push them back down. I will not cry over this. I’ve cried enough. “I just can’t take this anymore. I can’t. You two … you’re driving me crazy. Literally. I can’t sleep. My stomach hurts all the time. I can’t even breathe when you’re both in the room.”

He grips the wheel tighter. “And if I said I was sorry? Would that matter?”

“Are you?”

I gaze at this handsome face and see nothing but pain and fear. For once we’re on the same page. “Would showing you how to pick a lock convince you?”

A laugh escapes me at the absurdity of that statement. “It wouldn’t hurt.” He follows suit, a large guffaw coming from his side of the car. The tension lessens enough so it’s not suffocating. “Guess I have to come back now,” I chuckle. “What kind of girl could resist that offer?”

We chuckle for a few seconds, but they fade away from us both. The smiles stay a little longer. I peer back out the window away from his still sad eyes. His gloved hand slowly moves to mine. I don’t pull away.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

My fingers entwine with his. “Then prove it.”

THREE

AFTER THE CLICKING OF HEELS