Demon's Kiss (16 page)

“Like mating?”

He almost choked, but clamped his mouth shut so he wouldn't end up spitting down into her face. He swallowed, cleared his throat and croaked, “What?”

“That's how you make
me
feel. Like mating,” she said. “The urge has never been this strong in me before.” She tipped her head to one side, studying his face. “Do you want to?”

“Don't you think we should try something a little lighter first?”

“Like what?”

“Kissing, maybe?”

She frowned at him. “I guess that is the usual method. All right.”

“All right.” He was a nervous wreck, never sure if she was teasing him, or whether her little red caboose had skipped the tracks. Or could she just simply be this innocent, this naive?

Seth licked his lips, hoped his breath was still minty fresh, and lowered his head until his lips met hers. And, God, those lips were so incredibly soft under his mouth. He pressed, nudged them apart, kissed her over and over, and she kissed back, first curious, then eager. He tried using his tongue, and she jerked her head back in surprise, eyes flashing wide.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

She shook her head, a smile coming out of nowhere. “No, I
like
it.” And she wrapped one arm around his waist, the other hand cupping the back of his head, and yanked him down to her, full body to body. He was on top of her, and she was kissing him, and it only took him about half a second to get over his surprise and start kissing her back. She opened her mouth to his tongue this time, even using her own.

Her hips arched against him, and her breath came in short, desperate little gasps. She was so incredibly responsive.

“Seth? Vixen?”

He went still, though she kept right on clinging and grinding and kissing. “Wait, wait, babe, I hear someone.”

“I don't care.”

“I think it's Roxy.”

“Seth, where are you?” the voice called again.

This time he was certain it was Roxy. He looked back down at Vixen, her wet lips, parted and still so hungry for his, her eyes filled with sexual need, pure and unrestrained lust. He loved that. Who would have expected it in a woman who seemed so damned innocent?

“I'm sorry. It sounds like she needs us.”

And then he rolled off Vixen and bounced to his feet, gripping her hand and pulling her up on the way.

“We're over here,” he called.

Within a few seconds, he heard Roxy coming, and then she appeared on the path, amid the pines. “Best get back to the house. We need you.”

“Trouble?” he asked, gripping Vixen's hand in his and moving fast.

“Yeah. Raphael brought it home with him. Just to keep things interesting, I guess. Stupid, stubborn, son of a—”

“Whoa, whoa, just what kind of trouble is this?”

“The worst kind.” Roxy slid a sideways glance at Vixen when she said that, and the look was almost one of pity. “I've never seen Raphael act like a typical male before, but I have now.”

“In what way is he acting male?” Vixen asked, sending Roxy a curious look.

“Thinking with his dick, honey.”

Vixen frowned and looked at Seth. “What does she mean?”

“Uh, I think she means Reaper's mind is more on, uh…” What was the word she'd used? Oh, yeah. “More on
mating
than on common sense.”

“You got that right,” Roxy said. She wasn't walking through the woods so much as
stomping
through them. And her hands were clenched at her sides, swinging more than they normally did when she walked. “Never thought I'd see the day,” she muttered. “All these years, and it isn't that I haven't been trying to get that man laid all along, because I have. Sex is
good
for a man. But damn, of all the females in all the preternatural world, why the hell did it have to be her?”

“Who?” Seth and Vixen said in unison.

“No wonder he never went for any of the women I picked out for him. They were freaking
sane!
”

“Who is it, Roxy?” Seth asked again.

The house was in sight now, and with their vampiric hearing, he and Vixen could pick up the sounds of struggle coming from within. Growls and shrieks, and the crash of things breaking. It sounded as if Reaper were battling a badger in there.

“Tell you what I
ought
to do. I
ought
to march right in there and kick that idiot square in the
cojones.
Maybe that would knock some sense into him.”

They opened the front door and hurried inside, following the sounds of battle to Reaper's bedroom, where he had a furious, wild-eyed female pinned to the bed. She struggled and twisted, spat and growled. Her hair was all over, her face red. Reaper was bruised and scratched, and his clothing was torn.

“No,” Vixen whispered. “She cannot be here!”

Seth was looking around, though, a new concern etching itself into his mind. “Hey, where the hell is Topaz?”

“No one knows,” Roxy said. “She wasn't with Raphael. We have no idea where she went.”

“But we'll damn well find her,” Reaper said through gritted teeth. He was clearly in pain. “Just as soon as someone finds me some restraints strong enough to keep our captive still.”

“Why didn't you tranquilize her?” Seth demanded.

“Did, but I didn't use enough the first time and I'm not sure how much more she can handle. Find me something, dammit.”

“I'm on it, Reap,” Seth said, and he turned and picked his way back across the bedroom, avoiding the broken lamps and upended furnishings that littered the place from one end to the other. He made it to the closet down the hall, where Roxy had put her supplies, and started rummaging, hoping she'd thought this far ahead.

“I have something that will keep her in line,” he heard Vixen say from the bedroom. And then she left, heading down the same hallway he had, moving past him and on to her room. When she emerged, she was holding the shock collar that had so recently been buckled around her own slender neck.

She held it up, to show him.

“That's the best idea I've heard all month,” he said, reaching for it.

Vixen tugged it away before he could grab it, and he searched her eyes, only to see them lower, and she quickly shook her head. “No. No, it's a bad idea. It's…it's too cruel. Even for Briar.”

T
opaz had waited far from the rogues' mansion, until she was certain they had, indeed, all left for their nightly feeding frenzy. If anything, she gave them extra time, but she had to be careful.

Okay, so maybe it was pathetic of her. To be used, to be taken, to be robbed by a man like Jack, was bad enough. What was worse was that she'd enjoyed every minute of it. Every second.
Intensely.
Right up until the big revelation at the end, at least, where he'd done a vanishing act with her money. But the rest—the rest had been blissful. To add insult to injury, she missed him. And she still got hot every time she thought of his kiss, his touch, his hands on her body. God, the man was a master at lovemaking.

And yeah, she hated the idea of Jack burning alive, even though that was exactly what he deserved. She'd tried telling herself and everyone else that she wanted to keep him alive only because she needed her money back, and if he died, she would never be able to get it. And she would
keep on
telling everyone
else
that. But deep down, she knew better. It wasn't as easy to lie to herself.

So she waited, and then she moved closer to the mansion and waited some more. It was a long wait, and she figured the others in Reaper's band of misfits would be wondering where she was. Maybe even worrying about her, though she supposed that was doubtful. She wasn't the kind of person people actually liked. Never had been. Which was why she was so stupid to have let herself believe Jack had ever really cared about her. No one had ever
really
cared. It didn't matter. She had to do this.

It was, she figured, a couple of hours past midnight when the rogues began returning to their lair. Sometimes just one solitary vampire, sometimes a group of two or three. She opened her senses while trying to keep her own presence concealed—a difficult task. It was easier to block your own essence while closing yourself off entirely. To be open, searching, reaching out for someone while blocking others, that was trickier. She thought she could handle it, though.

Finally she felt him. He was with a small group making their way to the front of the mansion, talking about the night's kills the way mortal hunters would discuss every detail after taking a deer.

“You should have seen her,” a male vampire Topaz had never seen before was saying. “She never realized anything was wrong until I sank my fangs into her pretty neck. It was fantastic.” He was tall, painfully thin, recently made, with silver gray hair and a gaunt face that spoke of endless hunger.

Jack laughed with the strange vamp, but Topaz could feel him squirming a little. “Sixteen, you say?”

“Or thereabouts.”

“So, you, uh, killed her, then?”

“Drained her dry.” The vampire slapped him on the back. “Young blood is so much sweeter, don't you think?”

“Always,” Jack said. “I was just saying the other night how—” He stopped there, breaking off in midsentence and tipping his head in just such a way that Topaz knew he'd sensed her presence, just as she'd intended.

Jack quickly glanced at his companion. “You know, Merlin, I completely forgot what I was going to say just now.” He gave his head a shake. “I think the victim I took tonight was on something that's not agreeing with me.”

“You all right?” the other one asked.

“Fine. I think I'm going to stay outside for a bit, though. Take in the night. It'll refresh me far more than being inside that stuffy mansion would.”

“I can stay, if you—”

“Please.” Jack rolled his eyes, and the other vampire grinned, nodded and went inside. Then Jack looked around, listened,
felt
for her.

She knew he was scanning for others in the area, not only of his own band, but of hers. He probably suspected a trap.

She stepped out of the shadows, and said, “I'm alone. I need to talk to you.”

He saw her, and his eyes registered surprise, but only briefly. For just a moment there was a flash of something that looked almost glad to see her, and then his gaze moved up and down her body, blatantly appreciative. She tried not to remind herself how stupid she'd felt dressing up tonight in a slinky black number with a slit up to her hip and a plunging neckline. Putting on makeup, brushing her hair until it gleamed. God, she was pathetic. And yet, he noticed, and it felt good to be looked at that way. By him, only by him.

He came closer, and she stood there, waiting, letting the wind move her hair and knowing it turned him on. She could feel that it did. Good. Let him suffer. When he was a foot from her, he stopped. “You look amazing, Topaz. It's been too long.”

“It hasn't been nearly long enough,” she said, hoping he felt only her anger and resentment, and none of the hurt and ridiculous longing welling up inside her. “Never wouldn't be long enough. But I couldn't very well demand my money back without seeing you.”

“Ah. So you're here for your money.”

“What else?”

He shrugged, but his gaze was on her cleavage, then her neck and her lips, and his fingertips were suddenly running down her arms from shoulder to elbow and back again, and she shivered involuntarily.

“Stop it, Jack.” She could have taken a step back, but didn't. It had been too damn long since he'd touched her. And he didn't obey. Just kept on stroking, so lightly. “I just want my money.” God, her voice was shaking.

“I earned that money, love. Fair and square. I gave you enough orgasms to pay for twice what I took from you.”

“I didn't know I was being charged for them. And as I recall, I gave as good as I got. You had plenty of pleasure, too.”

“I'd like some more.”

Before she could react—not that she was even sure she would have—he jerked her to him and took her mouth with his. And, oh, God, it was everything she'd been dreaming about since he'd left her. Everything she remembered and hungered for. The way he had of moving his lips against hers as his tongue teased—didn't plunge, that would come later, but just teased—dipping, tempting, tasting. He had the softest lips of any man she had ever kissed, and everything in her wanted him in that moment. She couldn't help it when she twisted her arms around his neck, tipped her head to get a better angle.

He slid his magic hands down her back, cupped her ass and pulled her slowly, powerfully, against him as he arched into her. Hard. She felt him. At least he wanted her, too. But then again, that had never been the issue.

“God, you're a hot little thing,” he whispered against her mouth. “I'm so glad you came back for more. Did you bring your checkbook?”

Just like a slap in the face, his words snapped her out of the haze of desire that had held her. She jerked herself out of his arms and blinked up at him, stunned, hurt and angry. “You bastard.”

“Sorry. Just checking.” He shrugged. “I suppose I could toss you a freebie, if you—”

She hit him, and it wasn't a girlie face-slap, either, but a full-blown, clenched fist to the jaw that snapped his head around and spun his body in a half circle.

He wobbled, caught himself, put a hand on his jaw and lifted his head slowly to face her. “You
are
pissed.”

“Half a million dollars will do that to a woman.”

“I think that was more feeling than fortune, love.”

“In your dreams, Jack. Give me back my money, and I might just tell you something that will save your sorry ass from annihilation.”

That
caught his interest. Finally the smug look left his face. His brows rose, and he searched her eyes. Good, at last an honest expression—something beyond his act. She'd seen it before, or thought she had. But it was rare that he let the slick veneer slip away.

“My ass is in danger of being annihilated?”

“Soon, too.”

“Well, now. That
is
interesting.” He took her arm. “Why don't we find a cozy, private place to discuss it further?”

Her heart beat faster, even while her mind told her to send him packing, or, better yet, deck him again. But before she could do either, she sensed others coming from the castle.

It hit her fast that she'd let her guard down—he'd kissed her, and she'd forgotten everything except feeling, sensation, passion. God, he was good.

He seemed to become aware of their discovery at the same time she did, because he shoved her away from him and whispered,
“Run.”

She ran, and the other vampires came charging toward them, but Jack stepped out, held up a hand, and they stopped. After that, she couldn't see or hear them anymore. She was entirely focused on making her way, silently and with all the speed she could muster, through an unfamiliar forest, in hopes of eluding the rogues.

 

Jack had spent the entire encounter, minus its final minute or so, feeling extremely pleased with himself. She still wanted him. That much was clear. That he still wanted her just as much didn't really enter into it. He was male, she was hot and quite possibly the best sex he'd ever had. Naturally he still wanted her. It didn't mean anything.

For her, however, it did. It must. She was female. They were emotional things by nature. He'd stolen from her, used her, hurt her, abandoned and betrayed her, and she still had it bad for him.

Damn, he must be better than even
he
had realized.

Of course, the kiss had hit him a little harder than he'd anticipated, and not wanting to reveal that, he'd had to cover by insulting her. It was second nature. Keep them close enough, just not too close.

At any rate, all those thoughts had dissipated when she'd made her cryptic comment about his impending doom, and then they'd vanished entirely when he'd realized that her presence on the grounds had been discovered.

He stood there now, grinning like an idiot at the two members of what he had dubbed Gregor's Goon-Squad—the GGS for short. God, they were all so alike—Gregor chose them that way. Weak-minded and bulky, they looked enough alike to have been blood kin in life. Beetling foreheads, eyes a tad too close together, thick necks. Big heads full of dark hair, and bearded. All of them. Why Gregor insisted on that, Jack couldn't be certain. His best guess—to make it easy to tell them apart from the full-blooded vampires.

Though he wasn't quite sure what made them less than full-blooded. And he had to admit to a burning curiosity, though he wouldn't break his neck trying to find out. It was no skin off his nose either way.

The drones lumbered up to him and stopped.

“I sensed a presence, too,” he lied. “Came out to check, but there's no one. Maybe around back—”

Before he could finish, he heard and sensed something that made his stomach turn, and he turned to see two more of the oversized, under-witted vampire drones dragging Topaz between them. Dammit to hell, where had they come from?

Her face was bruising already, silken hair hanging in her eyes, sexy dress—the one he was sure she'd put on just for him—torn. The slit that had reached to just below her hip now gaped to the curve of her waist, revealing the slender band of the thong panties she wore underneath it. One vampire clutched each of her arms, and he knew they were holding her far harder than was necessary.

She lifted her head, met his eyes.

Jack averted his, because he couldn't stand seeing her in pain. He
liked
women. This one in particular. He didn't approve of, much less have the stomach for, harming them—at least not physically. Financially, emotionally, those were entirely different things.

“Nice work, men,” he said, forcing a smile of approval. “How about I take her from here, then?”

“How about I do?”

The voice was Gregor's, and it came from behind him. He turned to meet the boss's eyes and found them furious. Frowning, Jack said, “Gregor, what's happened? The anger's coming off you in waves.”

“Briar is missing. I believe
they've
taken her.”

“
Who
have taken her?” Jack asked, though he was sorely afraid he already knew.

“Reaper, the one sent to destroy me, and his gang. The same bastards who took Vixen from us.” He looked past Jack at Topaz. “Fortunately, we have one of theirs now. Don't we?”

She lowered her eyes, refusing to answer.

“Yes, of course we do. Who else would be sneaking around here in the dead of night?”

“Gregor, I don't think—”

“Shut up, Jack. You two, take her inside, down below. She can have Vixen's old cell.”

They nodded and dragged her onward. Topaz didn't struggle, didn't fight, just kept looking at Jack, her eyes asking why the hell he wasn't doing something to help her. But dammit, he couldn't.

As they dragged her past Gregor, he stopped them, then gripped her chin and lifted it so that he could stare directly into her eyes. “I'm going to enjoy punishing you for the crimes of your comrades, pretty one. I'm going to enjoy it very much.”