Demon's Kiss (11 page)

“Wh-where do you need to go?”

“Five blocks that way.” She pointed. “But maybe I should drive, hmm? You look like you've had a few too many.”

“No way, honey. Nobody drives this baby but me.”

“You'll wreck her,” she said.

“I've made it home a lot worse off than this.” He aimed the key ring at the car and pushed a button to unlock the doors, then nodded when the car's lights flashed him a welcome. “What's your name, anyway?”

“Briar,” she said.

“I'm Jim.”

“I don't really care.”

He frowned at her for a second, then shrugged. “Get in.”

She opened the door, slid into the car, slow and sexy. He watched, then went to his side and got behind the wheel. There was little traffic, no one to see what might happen next. Reaper could have stepped in then, but he was curious, and more than a little bit aroused. He wasn't going to let her kill the man, though. He vowed he wouldn't. He would stop things before they got that far, though he prayed he wouldn't have to. She wouldn't go through with it. She wouldn't kill the guy.

Reaper had a perfect view of the entire episode. And he could hear them, even with the vehicle's doors and windows closed. He was, after all, a vampire. The man—Jim—put the keys into the ignition. Briar put her hand over his. “One kiss first,” she whispered.

Jim stared at her as she leaned closer. Her lips touched his, and his hand went slack, letting the keys fall to the floor with a sharp jangle. He twisted toward her, eager arms sliding around her, yanking her tight, and Reaper felt a flash of anger blaze up in her, felt her deliberately grab it and hold it back.

She slid her mouth from his, around to his jaw and closer to his neck, then closer still, and Reaper could sense that she thought she had to hurry, because she couldn't take much more of his clumsy pawing and groping. She reached his neck. She grasped the back of his head, tipping it sideways none too gently, and then she clamped her mouth onto him, sank her fangs deep and drank.

“Hey!” He started to pull away, but he was no match for her strength. She had him in a death grip, and in a second or two, he didn't care. He was falling into her thrall, drowning in the ecstasy of being devoured, of flowing into another being, of mindless, fathomless pleasure almost beyond endurance.

Reaper knew the feeling. He knew it well.

The victim's heartbeat started to slow, and yet she kept on feeding, kept on drinking. She was going to take all of him.

Reaper shook off the bloodlust that watching her feed had brought on and lunged, moving at preternatural speed. Yanking open the door, he gripped her by the back of her tiny black leather jacket and dragged her right out of the vehicle.

Jim slumped in his seat, the two punctures in his neck trickling scarlet.

Briar whirled on Reaper, lashing out with a clawed hand and raking his face. “How
dare
you?”

“Oh, I dare, Briar.” He nodded toward the man in the car. “You've taken enough. Any more and he'll be dead.”

“That was the plan.”

“You'd take his life? The life of an innocent?”

“And his car, too.” She slammed the door and stood facing him. “Who the hell are you, and where do you get off interrupting my meal?”

He stared at her for a long moment.

“Well? Don't you want to tell me who you are before I kill you?”

That made him smile, just slightly, and very bitterly. “You couldn't kill me, Briar. Don't even try. I don't want to hurt you. And because I don't want to hurt you, I'll warn you that you're in grave danger.”

She looked around. “From who? You?”

“From that gang you're running with. From its leader.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“You go around murdering innocents. You take no precautions. You don't care if you're seen. You leave the bodies to be found by other mortals. You're exposing the entire undead race to discovery, and you're making us the objects of hatred and fear—even more so than we already are. Surely you don't think the vampires of the world are going to let that kind of behavior go unhindered.”

She studied him more closely, her eyes probing his. “You're the one, aren't you? You're the one they've sent to kill Gregor.”

He nodded slowly. “I am. I'm aware that he already knows I'm coming, so it costs me nothing to tell you.”

“Oh, it's gonna cost you plenty.”

Even as he tried to guess her meaning, she lashed out. Both fists, clasped together as one, came around like a sledgehammer, and when they connected with his jaw, he flew bodily into the air. His back hit a brick wall, and he barely kept from sliding to the sidewalk.

He gave his head a shake, and straightened, and then she was there, striking again, with a solid, powerful kick to the solar plexus that had him bending over and gasping in pain.

Fists again. She brought them down on the back of his head, put him on his knees. He pushed up with his hands, stunned at the ferocity of the attack.

“I'm going to kill you,” she said. “Nobody is going to hurt Gregor.”

“You in love with him?” he asked, though the words came in a raspy, pain-racked voice.

“I owe him.”

He heard the sharp hiss of a blade sliding out of a sheath and realized he couldn't continue this passive routine. Swinging one arm outward, he yanked her feet right out from beneath her, and when she went down hard, he sprang, landing atop her, pinning her tight. He held her wrists to the sidewalk at either side of her head and straddled her thighs, his hips pressing hers down tight.

He lifted his gaze to her hands, one of which was still clinging to the dagger. “Drop the knife,” he said.

“Kill me if you want. I'm not going to drop it.”

“I'm not going to kill you.”

“Then why the hell would I drop the knife?”

He lifted his head, fixed his eyes on hers, and then let them slide to her neck. “Because I'm going to drink from you if you don't.”

She didn't move, just lay there, panting, frozen. So he lowered his head, let his lips touch the skin of her neck, parted them a little and sucked.

The knife clattered to the sidewalk.

But God, he didn't think he could stop now. He sucked a little harder, pressed just the tiniest bit with his teeth.

“I dropped the knife,” she said. “Get your filthy mouth off me and let me up.”

He didn't. He kept nibbling, suckling. He felt her heartbeat speed up to match his own. He was going to do it. He was going to take her—just a sip, just a taste.

And then he heard something that made him stop. A woman, a vampiress, speaking to him mentally, a sense of panic coming through with her words.

Reaper, if you're out there, Seth is in trouble. He needs your help or he'll be killed. Please hurry.

S
eth swung the ax hard, lopping off the head of the first oversized vampire who attacked him. Blood spurted as the body collapsed like a sack of bricks, and the head went rolling away, its face contorted in a horrible grimace.

But there were three more of Gregor's henchmen right behind the first one. They didn't talk; they just surged, growling, and swinging beefy arms at him. One caught him upside the head, and he stumbled, then caught himself, pushing up, swinging the ax and lopping off one foot at the ankle.

The creature howled, falling down and rolling on the floor as the blood flowed. He would bleed out, and fast, right? Seth thought. That was the way Reaper had explained it—Hell, no time to think. There were more. God, where were they all coming from? He swung the ax again, hitting something, an arm or maybe a waist, and reached behind him to open the door. Surely Vixen had fled far enough by now to be safe.

He opened the door, but they kept coming. One grabbed him by the shirt and jerked him back inside. Another one pegged him with a meaty fist, right in the face, knocking him to the floor, and a third stomped on his arm, then yanked the ax from his hand. The thug raised Seth's ax up over his head, and Seth covered his face with his free arm, preparing to meet his doom.

And then he remembered the Noisy Cricket he'd reclaimed from Topaz. He rolled to dodge the falling ax, jerked the little weapon from the holster under his shirt, rolled and fired.

The guy with the ax fell, dropping the weapon to the floor. There were still two others in Seth's face, and more beyond them, but he pointed the gun at them. “Stop. Just back off.
Now
—or you're next.”

The gun only held one dart at a time, but these gorillas didn't know that. They backed off, staring at the weapon, and then at their comrade on the floor.

“Pick him up,” Seth said.

One of them did. Then Seth herded them to the cage where Vixen had been kept like an animal. He made them get inside, shut the door. He'd broken the lock, but he wedged the ax handle between the bars. It wouldn't hold long against preternatural strength, but it might buy him a minute or two.

Finally he turned and raced from the musty cellar, reloading his handy-dandy little weapon on the way. Up the stairs, grabbing a crowbar that was hanging from a nail on the wall as he went. Then he was outside, sucking in the blessedly fresh air. He closed the door behind him and stuffed the crowbar through the handle, to keep it from being easily opened.

Reaper said, “I
told
you not to go inside unless it was safe.”

Seth turned from the door, gripped Reaper's arm and hurried up the drive. “Hey, you're way too slow for comfort, pal. Still, it's good to know you care enough to come when I call.”

“I never heard your call, Seth. I was summoned to your aid by a strange female. Your redhead, I presume.”

“She's all right, then? Do you know where she—” He broke off at the sound of an agonized scream somewhere in the distance. He glanced at Reaper, then broke into a dead run, pulling the tranquilizer gun even as he sped into the forest, following the sound. Seth had been hurting before, battered, bruised, even cut in places during his struggle with Gregor's apes. But now his entire body was alive with pain, and he knew it was Vixen's hurt he felt.

Someone was hurting her horribly.

“I'm gonna kill whatever son of a—”

And then he saw Vixen, on the ground, hugging herself, shaking and whimpering. He knelt beside her, touched her shoulder. “Vixen, what—”

“Get away from her!” a woman snapped.

Seth looked up to see the other one, the one who'd held Vixen's leash before. She was gripping a small black box in one hand like a weapon. “What did you do to her?” Seth demanded.

“Back off, or I'll do it again.”

Reaper was behind her. Surely he would make a move at any second. Take the dark bitch out. Save Seth's redhead.

“But—” Seth said.

Big mistake. The dark woman thumbed a button on the box, and Vixen shrieked and went rigid. Seth aimed the weapon and fired, but the bitch saw it coming and ducked. And then Reaper grabbed her hard, taking her completely by surprise—she'd been too focused on Seth to sense the other presence. Reap wrestled the box from her hand, holding her captive at the same time.

She clawed his face like a rabid cat, and when he recoiled in pain, she jerked free of him, then, as Seth fired a second shot at her, she whirled and ran for all she was worth. “You'll be sorry for this, Reaper!” she shouted.

Seth pocketed the gun and bent again, gathering Vixen, who had been reduced to a quivering mass, up in his arms. He held her as she trembled. “It's gonna be okay,” he said. “We've got you now. We'll take care of you.”

She managed to open her eyes and stare into his, looking for all the world like a small, wounded animal with no idea what was happening to it. Lifting a hand, she clawed at the collar around her neck.

“Shock collar,” Reaper muttered.

Everything in Seth's body seemed to go cold at those words. He'd never felt hate the way he felt it right then. “If I see that bitch again, I'm gonna rip out her heart,” he promised.

But then he focused again on Vixen, weak, small, trembling in his arms. He thought she was in trouble. “I think she needs help, Reap. She needs Roxy.”

“You look like you could use a little patching up yourself,” Reaper said.

But Seth couldn't take his eyes off the woman he held.

“Seth, you're injured and tired. Let me carry her.”

Seth only shook his head. “No. I found her. I saved her. I'll carry her.”

 

“I could probably take a turn driving,” Topaz said, “you know, if you're getting tired or anything.”

Roxy glanced at her, and Topaz pasted a mask of disinterest on her face and tried not to feel the engine's overly noisy growl reverberating deep in the center of her chest, the way she'd been doing for the past couple of hours as they drove around the known vampire haunts of Savannah.

Not that it had done them any good. Topaz had sensed only one vampire, at a nightclub at the edge of town, but whoever she was, she must have been decidedly shy of meeting others. The second Topaz tried to home in on her essence, she vanished beneath a shroud of protection, like a thick fog, blocking intrusion from any others. Topaz hadn't had the chance to discover the vampire's identity, much less whether she was one of the bad guys.

It had been a decidedly disappointing night.

“You know, I
am
getting a little tired,” Roxy said. “You sure you can drive a stick?”

“Pssh.”

Roxy grinned. “I take it that's a yes.” She flipped on her turn signal and pulled onto the shoulder. They had just about given up and were headed back to home base. But there was still some distance yet to drive. Roxy brought the car to a stop and opened the heavy door.

Topaz didn't bother with such formalities. Instead, she climbed over the stick shift to slide behind the wheel, then worried that she might have made herself look a tad too eager. Hell, she
was
eager.

Roxy got in, closed her door and was just pulling her seat belt around her when Topaz slid the shift into first gear, eased off the clutch, pressed gently on the accelerator and felt the satisfying rumble of power underneath her as the car came to life. She tried to stifle a smile as she gave it more gas, then eased off to shift into second, then third. The power was all below and in front of her, and the sensation was like being in a chariot pulled by a thousand stallions. They'd named the car aptly, she thought. She shifted again, picking up speed with ease, and finally hit fifth gear and really cut loose.

“Hot
damn,
” she muttered. Then she bit her lip and shot a sideways glance at Roxy.

The woman was grinning. “Yeah, I had the same reaction. I won't tell Seth if you won't.”

“Deal.” Topaz took a corner without slowing down and came damn close to giggling. But she didn't. She did
not
giggle. But when she came to a steep hill and the Mustang ate the road without flinching, she almost broke that rule. Instead, she settled for putting her window down and letting the wind blow through her hair. She hadn't had this much fun since the first time she'd driven her Mercedes, and she thought this just might be better.

And then she felt him.

Jack.

She hit the brake hard, and when the car started to lug and nearly stalled, she remembered the clutch, hit that, too, and pulled over.

“What is it? What's wrong?”

Topaz turned to Roxy, blinking. “I felt him. Just now. Close.”

“Jack of Hearts?” Roxy asked, searching her face.

Topaz wished Roxy wouldn't look so closely, because along with the sense of Jack had come a tightening of her throat, a heaviness in her chest and a burning behind her eyes. Damn him. She hated that the very thought of him still hurt so much. And she would be hanged before she admitted that to anyone.

“Yes,” Topaz said, swallowing to ease the hoarseness in her voice. “The bastard's here. Somewhere.”

“Do you still sense him?”

Topaz closed her eyes, focused, the car rumbling, impatient to be on its way. She eased the shift out of gear, so she could let off the clutch. “It's…very slight now.”

“You could try calling out to him. Tell him you're in town and want to see him,” Roxy suggested.

Topaz opened her eyes wide. “Why the
hell
would I want to do
that?
”

“Because he might respond, might tell you where he is.”

“Please.”

“Well, why wouldn't he? Look at you. He'd be insane not to be tempted.”

Topaz warmed to the compliment. “Thanks for saying that.”

“It's only the truth. And I know you're furious with him for what he did to you, but if you could fake it, maybe we could get a clue to where this rogue gang calls home.”

“It wouldn't work. He wouldn't be tempted, because he never wanted me to begin with. Just my money.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“Well, it's the truth. And besides, even if he wanted to see me, he wouldn't dare. He got to know me pretty well while he was playing the part of my devoted lover. He knows I'd rip his heart out if I saw him again.”

Roxy blinked. “But you
are
going to see him again. I mean, that's why you're here, right?”

Topaz nodded.

“So why wait?”

“I'm just…not ready.”

“Hmm.” Roxy was quiet for a second. Then, “When you
do
see him, are you really going to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Rip out his heart?” Roxy asked.

Topaz sighed. “I don't know what I'll do. I just know I'm not ready. Not yet. And I don't want to tip him off that I'm here. I mean, suppose word is out that I'm with you guys, that we're after Gregor? It would give the entire gang an unnecessary warning, give them a chance to get away or, worse yet, get ready for us. Maybe even attack us first.”

“Mmm, a preemptive strike. We're not prepared to handle that.”

“No, we're not. So you can see why my calling out to Jack right now would be a mistake.”

“Not really. But I can see why we need to get ready. Let's head back to the mansion. We have work to do.”

Topaz frowned at her, but put the car back into gear and drove. She tried to lose herself in the power of the motor, the feeling of might that came with controlling such an incredible vehicle. But her heart wasn't in it anymore. She couldn't stop seeing Jack's face, hearing his voice, feeling his touch, shivering all over with the memories.

She ought to kill him. She really should.

 

Gregor paced the great room, while Jack and Briar, the two closest to him, the two he most trusted, Jack thought, stood before the fireplace. There were other vampires in the gang, mostly young and easily influenced. Easily controlled. Not as easily controlled as those damn drones, of course, and Jack would have given his right arm to know how the hell Gregor had created them. But Gregor would never tell.

As to the other vampires in the mansion, Gregor only used them for bringing wealth back to his coffers. He barely spoke to them, rarely interacted with them, and clearly didn't trust them.

Not that he trusted Jack or Briar either, at least not entirely. Gregor didn't trust
anyone
entirely. He couldn't afford to trust easily, or often. But he considered them both lieutenants in his rogue army.

Briar, devoted little idiot that she was, seemed truly remorseful and devastated by Gregor's anger at her. He himself, on the other hand, was laughing at the entire mess, keeping his head bowed to hide his expression rather than to show regret. He suspected Gregor was well aware of it, too.