Knight of Wands (Knights of the Tarot Book 1) (21 page)

“Married?” She looked shocked and sounded appalled. “We’ve only known each other two weeks.”

“You’re right,” he said, backpedaling. “It’s too soon. I shouldn’t have suggested it.”

She looked at him as if he’d sprouted a second head. “Are you withdrawing your proposal?”

“Do you want me to?”

She shrugged. “Part of me does…and part of me doesn’t.”

“Can I lock the part that does in the boot and take the part that doesn’t to Gretna Green?”

She scowled at him reproachfully. “I thought you agreed it was too soon.”

He gave her a sheepish grin. “Aye, well…we can always get a divorce if it doesn’t work out.”

“Your confidence leaves me breathless.”

Biting his lip, he returned his full attention to the road, saying nothing more. They were all the way to Fort Augustus, deep in the pine forest that edged the winding road, before she asked him, out of the blue, to pull over.

“What? Why?”

“Just pull over.” She slipped her hand between his legs. “Before I change my mind.”

Confused, but hopeful, he glanced in the rearview mirror. There was nobody behind them for as far as he could see. Easing his foot off the gas, he steered toward the shoulder, brought the vehicle to a stop, and switched off the engine.

“You honestly want to do the deed in the car on the side of the road?”

“Why not? There’s no one around.”

“What if the traffic police should come along?”

“You’ll make them forget what they saw…unless you’d rather not.”

She gave his package a squeeze, calling all the blood in his head to his groin. He reached for her, pulled her into his arms and held her against his chest, inhaling the fragrance of her hair. He’d miss that aromatic herbal scent. Hell, he’d miss everything about her, more than he cared to think about right now. He set his cheek atop her head, his heart heavy and beating hard, and rubbed her back in slow-moving circles.

“I’m not leaving you, I promise,” she said, lifting his spirits some. “I’m only pursuing the career I’ve spent time and money preparing for. I wish you’d try to understand.”

“I do understand,” he said, chest heavy. “But I can’t shake the awful feeling this won’t go well.”

Drawing back, she gazed into him like a crystal ball. “Oh, my God. You think I’m leaving you for good.”

“What else am I supposed to think when you won’t commit to a date for my first visit?”

Her eyes narrowed and her brow knitted. “Jesus, Callum. How many times do I have to tell you? This isn’t about you. It’s about me. I care for you, I do, but I need more than a relationship to be happy. I need my own interests, my own identity, and my own purpose. And I need to know that any man I choose to commit to will support me in those things.”

He scoffed in spite of his own best interests. “Isn’t making me happy purpose enough?”

Oh, fuck. Did I really just say that aloud?

Her eyes caught fire and her nostrils flared. “And, just like that, the male chauvinist pig rears his ugly head. I knew all along you were repressing antiquated attitudes about women’s roles…and this just proves I was right.”

“I’m not, I swear,” he protested, sweating. “It’s just that…well, I can’t understand what you need with a bloody career. I offered to support you, didn’t I?”

Uh, oh. Clearly not the right thing to say at all.

The fire in her eyes now blazed like a funeral pyre—his, unfortunately.

“
You
have a career.”

“That’s different.”

“Why? Because you have a penis?”

He could almost hear the ice cracking under his feet. One more thoughtless remark and he’d plunge into the icy depths. To keep the fight from escalating further, he pressed his lips against hers.

Down, down on the seat they went, clawing at each other’s bodies, tearing at the clothes that stood in their way. He nipped at her neck and collarbone as he lifted her skirt. Her fingers raked his back and his ass as he ran his up and down her haunches. Her legs parted and clamped around him. When she arched up in invitation, he thrust into her, shuddering as her heat and lushness enveloped his length.

He pushed up, his hands on the leather seat on either side of her. The console was in her back, but she didn’t seem bothered. He drew back and hovered on the brink of slipping from her before driving into her again. She reared up to take him deeper and dug her high heels into his ass. He pulled back and thrust again, rotating a little as he filled her. The moan she emitted set off an explosion of lust in his pelvis.

She planted her hands on his chest and ground against him each time he plunged into her. Slow at first, then fast, relentless, both of them pumping in wild, mindless abandon. While wonderful, it also tasted bittersweet. He was melting, drowning, slamming into her with a mixture of joy and anguish that tore him like parchment.

Lowering his face to her neck, he bit down, sinking his fangs into skin and muscle. As her blood bubbled salty and sweet over his tongue, her sex convulsed, bringing on his own shattering climax. He shuddered into stillness, gratified and panting, his overheated face and disheveled hair dripped with sweat. He looked down at her, into her eyes, sure he saw a glimmer of affection. Or was it doubt? He said nothing. There was nothing left to say.

Once they’d sorted themselves out, he pulled back onto the road, her head parked against his shoulder. He twisted his neck to kiss her hair, flaring his nostrils to take in the fresh herbal scent of her shampoo.

God, how he was going to miss her. Hell, he missed her already.

Too soon, they arrived at the airport. Feeling like he’d swallowed hot coals, he pulled the Range Rover into the designated drop-off area outside the international terminal at Glasgow International Airport. He killed the engine and turned to take one long, last look at her, soaking in every detail of her lovely face. Those mental snapshots would have to sustain him.

“Do you want me to come in?”

“Don’t bother.” Her voice was tight and she refused to meet his gaze, adding to his vexation.

“It’s no bother.”

“If you come in, you’ll have to park the car.”

“I’ll gladly park the bloody car to see you as far as the security checkpoint.”

“I’m fine getting out here.”

Simmering in a sauce spiced with hurt and annoyance, he shook his head, jumped out, and unloaded her bags. “Are you sure?”

He hoped she understood he meant
sure
about everything.

She nodded. “I have supernatural strength, remember?”

Reaching around her waist, he pulled her against him and gave her a lingering kiss. Then, freeing his mouth, he whispered, “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

Biting her lip, she looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “I’m going to miss you.”

His throat was thick with emotion. “Don’t wait too long to have me for a visit, eh?”

“I won’t.” She touched his face with a tenderness that made him ache. “I promise.”

He gave her another heartfelt kiss and big hug before letting her go. As he stood there watching her stride toward the terminal, towing her heavy suitcases as if they weighed nothing, he felt his heart break. The sensation was akin to the snapping of a wishbone. Too bad he’d gotten the short end again.

PART TWO

The Wings of a Butterfly

Chapter 13

Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport was modern, clean, and smelled of popcorn, coffee, paprika, and human blood. Mr. Armstrong texted that he’d meet Vanessa at baggage claim and, when he came into view, she adjusted her scarf to cover Callum’s attempt to mark her as his property.

In terms of age, he looked to be somewhere in his early fifties. Medium height, good build, chestnut hair flecked with gray, piercing blue eyes, and a ready smile. Attractive in a bookish kind of way, he wore a button-down white shirt, khaki slacks, and cordovan loafers.

“Hi,” she said, offering him her biggest smile. “Thanks for picking me up.”

He flashed a grin, blinding her with whiteness. “My pleasure. How did it go? Did you have any luck locating the Vampire of Barrogill?”

“There’s no vampire there,” she said, forcing a smile. “But I did meet a ghost.”

His smile faded as he stepped back. “I’m sorry to hear that. About the vampire, I mean. The ghost thing sounds promising, though. You can tell me all about it on the drive to your house. In the meantime, how was your flight?”

“A little stuffy, to be honest.”

Stuffy was an understatement. The suffocating cabin had reeked so badly of human blood, she’d used the barf bag to mask the smell, drawing worried looks from her fellow passengers. Little did they know, airsickness was the least of their problems. If people thought snakes on a plane was a terrifying prospect, try flying the friendly skies with a hungry faery.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” His smile withered. “Would you like something to drink? Water? Sweet tea? A cocktail, maybe?”

“No, but thank you anyway.”

She only wanted blood and Callum.

“How about something to eat? You must be hungry after all that time in the air.”

“No thanks.” She was ravenous, but not for whatever he had in mind.

She started toward the baggage carousels, located the one for her flight, and scouted for her suitcases.

Mr. Armstrong came alongside. “How’d you leave things with Lyon?”

“We parted friends.”

“So…he didn’t suspect why you were there?”

“Not as far as I know.” She hated telling all these lies and wished he would change the subject.

Spying her suitcase, she grabbed it off the carousel, pulled out the retractable handle and turned to her boss. “Where are you parked?”

“I’m in the short-term parking garage.”

She followed him through the automatic glass doors, stopping short when the humidity hit her in the face like a wet rag. “Holy shit,” she exclaimed, forgetting her manners. “It’s like a sweaty armpit out here.”

He tossed a big grin over his shoulder. “This ain’t nothing. Just wait until July.”

As she followed him into the parking structure, she thought about the things Callum had said about him, including that he was a Scorpio—the same sign Nick had been.

Old wounds opened and started to ooze. She’d hardly thought about Nick the whole time she was in Scotland. Tossing his memory away, she studied Mr. Armstrong, wondering if the other things Callum had said were true. She had no reason to doubt his word and was sure he was right about Mr. Armstrong’s astrological sign. He definitely had the piercing gaze, good build, and handsome face of a Scorpion. He also had the disarming demeanor and crackling intensity Nick had used to fool everyone but her.

She’d learned the hard way that Scorpios, while cool on the surface, were bubbling cauldrons of passion underneath—and not in a good way. They could be obsessive, addictive, seductive, and downright dangerous.

Nick certainly had been. Luckily, she saw the signs and dumped him before he hit her.

“When’s your birthday?” Her voice echoed through the cavernous structure in an unnerving way.

Mr. Armstrong gave her a funny look. “It’s in November. Why?”

“I’m trying to guess your sign.”

“You into astrology?”

“You could say that.”

“That’s cool,” he said without turning. “Know anything about voodoo?”

“I’ve read a little, but would love to know more.”

“That can be arranged.”

He slowed enough to allow her to catch up. That was when she noticed he was wearing one of those pouches around his neck like she’d seen at Madam Rue’s. By the time they reached his car, a midnight blue Volvo station wagon, she was drenched in sweat. In San Francisco, she’d never experienced humidity like this or even known it existed.

After loading her suitcases in the rear, he opened the passenger door for her. She slid in and set her handbag on the floor behind her ankles. He strolled around to the driver’s side, climbed in, and closed the door. The scent of his blood clobbered her senses, arousing her entangled appetites. She squirmed, crossed her legs, and metaphorically kicked herself. What was she going to do without Callum? She already missed him so much she felt like crying.

Mr. Armstrong started the car, backed out of the space, and drove toward the exit gate. “You must be tired…or were you able to catch a few winks during the flight?”

“I didn’t, I’m sorry to say.” She gave him a smile. “I’m one of those unfortunate people who can’t seem to sleep on airplanes.”

“I’m the same way. My wife, on the other hand, goes out when the landing gear goes up and doesn’t rouse till it comes back down.” As they exited the parking garage, he added, “If you’re not too tired, I thought we’d take a vampire tour tonight, then stop in at Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop…just for fun.”