Reawakening (20 page)

She straddled him and eyes never leaving his, reached down to remove the little navy blue tank she’d worn to bed, leaving her only in tiny matching shorts.

His eyes raked over her nakedness, heat blazing in their fiery wake. His gaze was so potent, she swore she felt fingers feathering her oversensitive skin everywhere it landed.

“Christ, Sarah …”

Leaning forward, she brushed his ear with her lips. “Make love to me, Rom. Please.”

Her lips left a damp path down his neck and back up his strong jaw until she took his mouth with hers. She felt empowered and in control, but reckless at the same time. His mouth devoured hers as one hand palmed her neck and the other reached for her exposed breasts, tweaking one nipple first, then the other. Her hips undulated against his rock hard cock and she could think of nothing else but being possessed completely by him.

She wanted him to consume her.

Breaking the kiss, she spoke the words that had been on the tip of her tongue since she woke. “I’m ready. Make me yours.”

The events that followed those five little words would be something she would reflect back on for days.

His body completely froze. His lips stopped kissing. His hands stopped touching. His hips stopped thrusting. He forced her head to rest on his shoulder. She tried moving, but he restrained her. She was completely and utterly confused.

“I think we should wait. Just a few days.”

What.

The.

Fuck?

The last several days he’d been doing nothing but trying to get her to acquiesce to the bonding and now that she was, he thought they should
wait
.
Why?

Pulling out of his strong grip, she searched his face for answers. “I don’t understand.”

He looked away, unable to hold her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Unable to control her emotions, she yelled, “Are you serious?”

“Sarah …” he started.

Pulling free from his tight grip, she scrambled off the bed, heading for the safety of the bathroom. “No. Forget it. Forget I said a fucking thing.”

“Sarah … let me explain.”

Explain?
Explain?
There was no explanation on Earth that could possibly justify the about-face that had just occurred.

“Fuck you,” she shouted, slamming and locking the bathroom door. Not that it would stop him if he wanted to enter. Thankfully he didn’t. She started the shower, stripped her pajama bottoms and stepped under the hot spray. Tears flowed, mixing with the scalding liquid cascading over her body.

He’d rejected her. She’d finally agreed to be his and he’d rejected her.
Why?
What happened last night that had changed things? Had he heard her thoughts on the kidnapping and what occurred that horrific night? Did he think she was tainted goods? Was he afraid she thought he was the same as those monsters who had kidnapped her? Or was it something else? Was it possibly the danger that mystery girl had referred to?

Whatever the reason, she wasn’t really sure it mattered. Sinking to the cold tiled floor, she curled into a ball, letting the hot water rush over her and cried, giving into every single emotion that she’d buried for the past several months.

She cried for her parents.

She cried for herself.

She cried for a future she’d once dreamt of that would never be.

But mostly she cried for the loss of a new future, a new happiness, one she’d come to accept and even embrace with girlish giddiness. For some unknown reason that now seemed to be in jeopardy.

And she had no damn clue how to fix it.

Chapter 29

Rom

He was gutted.      

He was heartbroken.

He was tortured.

He was resolved.

He was in hell.

Chapter 30

Sarah

She was lost.

She was sad.

She was confused.

She was pissed.

She was in hell.

Chapter 31

Mike

He’d woken this morning and Giselle was gone. Classic. Totally expected, yet, soul-crushing nonetheless. But surprisingly … he wasn’t mad at her. He was mad at himself. He
knew
he was moving too fast. He knew she may not be in the same place he was emotionally. Hell … she may
never
be. Maybe he was just a shiny new plaything to her and nothing more. But even as he thought it, he knew it not to be true. The feelings she had for him could not be hidden in her expressive eyes. She just couldn’t verbalize them. Therefore, he should have kept his big fucking mouth shut and maybe she’d still be here right now.

She apparently needed space, so he’d decided against texting or calling. Instead, he’d spent the entire day working on their project, contacting additional PD’s and faxing pictures of the two missing women. Then about an hour ago … pay dirt.

Marna Clark was age twenty when she went missing in Des Plains, Illinois in 1969. There were very few leads and her case quickly grew cold and eventually forgotten in favor of the newest missing person. Hundreds of thousands of people go missing each year in the United States alone and Marna quickly became a statistic, like so many others. Mike was able to get her parents’ names, number and address. He’d called, but there was no answer.

Fuck it. Des Plains was only an hour and fifteen minutes from Milwaukee and since there was no reason to stick around here, he grabbed his phone, packed an overnight bag and headed to the garage. He’d sleep in a cheap motel close to their house and stop by the Clark’s first thing in the morning. Talking to them in person would be better anyway. He could gauge their expressions, and more importantly see their faces. Did either of them resemble Sarah? Did they have other children that did?

He didn’t really understand why Giselle was working on this project for Sarah, since Giselle wasn’t really the warm and fuzzy type, but the reason didn’t matter. Even if she’d decided not to come back, he would continue on his own. He’d do it for Sarah. He’d do it to keep his goddamned mind from spinning and churning.

And he’d do it in hopes that Giselle would come to her fucking senses and return to him. This time for good. Because next time she walked through that door … he wasn’t letting her leave. Ever.

Chapter 32

Rom

It was 1:00 a.m. and he sat at
The Bar
waiting for Ainsley to show. His stomach churned at how he’d left things with Sarah. They’d barely spoken since she’d declared she’d wanted to bond this morning. At those words, his heart soared, but quickly crashed. He’d wanted nothing more at that moment but to bury himself deep inside her and take what she’d so freely offered. What he’d been waiting for.

Mine, mine, mine
, his beast roared.

No, no, no
, his logic countered.

He didn’t know the right answer. He wanted her with raw animal need that bordered on insanity. But was it the right choice? Was his decision misguided? Should he confide in her and let her make her own informed choice? Maybe.

Fuck
. He didn’t know.

Once again, his calm, collected, decisive demeanor had escaped him and he felt truly lost for the first time in his life. And for one as old and formidable as he was, that was not a comfortable place to be.

A stunning blonde dressed all in black entered the bar bringing Rom out of his introspection. He couldn’t help but smile as their eyes caught and she hurriedly made her way to him. Standing, he pulled her into his arms.

“Ainsley,” he greeted as he swiftly pulled back. Even though they had more history between them than most, he still felt uncomfortable holding another female in his arms. Friend or not. Sarah was, and always would be, the only female he would ever hold again. Christ … he’d been an absolute idiot earlier today.

“Romaric. You look good.” She took a seat at the table he’d selected. Strategically placed, it afforded both of them a view of the entrance and exit, allowing each to quickly react if necessary.

They regarded each other silently until Rom spoke. “What is the plan?”

She snorted. “Your death, of course.”

“How?”

“I don’t know for sure, but they will surely try to trap you. Trick you using your mother so you return to Romania.” She gazed at him quietly before continuing. “He knows you spoke to her. She’s already been severely punished. I’m surprised she still lives.”

Mother. Fucker. He would so enjoy taking his father’s head.

“You look different.” Her head cocked. He didn’t miss her not so subtle glance at his thumb, looking for a mating mark. A smile crossed her lips. Ainsley was an extremely beautiful and desirable female and when they were children he fancied himself in love with her. The fact that she’d not met her mate to this day saddened him. “You’re in love. You found her.”

Rom remained quiet, unsure how to respond. Did he trust her enough?
No
.

“When?”

She chuckled, very much onto him. “Within the next month, maybe sooner. He’s trying to locate someone who can find you.”

“You.”

“Yes.”

He nodded. He’d suspected as much. So he had two weeks at most to prepare.

“What powers does he possess?”

The only down side to not staying in touch with his father, or anyone from his family, was that he didn’t know what skills his father had been able to procure over the years. And since he was a ruthless, callous killer, he imagined it was many. When Rom faced a rare foe more powerful than he, knowing his weaknesses would mean the difference between life and death.

Rom was known as The Reaper in the vampire community. His skills were unmatched, except by his father. His bloodline had the unique ability to absorb and negate vampiric powers. Meaning … if a vampire used their powers against him, he could either resist theirs or they then became his. If he harvested theirs, the other vampire didn’t lose them, per se, but they would weaken permanently. How much, he wasn’t sure, because he’d only left one vampire alive who’d tried. And that was his first and only mistake, which he’d quickly remedied. Any vampire who used their skill against him deserved—and was awarded—death.

His father was drunk on power. His mind warped with being the Deity he thought he was, but never would be. Early on, he’d wanted Romaric to join him, rule together, but he’d refused. He couldn’t rule with someone whom he didn’t have an ounce of respect for, who respected no one but himself. He’d never wanted to rule anything, so the fact that he found himself in a position of leadership in the United States was a hard pill to swallow for many years. And was a pill even more bitter for his father, who took it as a personal slight.

But they’d kept their distance, they’d keep the peace and they’d both kept their heads. But now … now because of his foolish decision to get self-validation on something he already knew in his heart to be true, he was back on the radar and their centuries’ long standoff would come to a head. And the only result would be one of their deaths. Hopefully not his. Which was why he’d rejected Sarah this morning.

Regardless of the position she’d been put in, Ainsley was trying to save his ass and he would pick every nugget of information from her brain before she left. So before he returned home to his very pissed off Moira, they spent the next two hours talking and strategizing.

He agreed to return to Romania in two weeks’ time. He would not put Sarah in any more danger than she already was, so he would keep this battle far from her. They agreed to meet at
The Bar
twice in-between in case there was information each needed to share. Exchanging cell phone numbers was far too dangerous.

Much to his dismay, he discovered that he and his father were equally matched in skills and the only way he could possibly beat him was to obtain the power of stasis within the next fourteen days.

And the only vampire that could come from was Xavier.

Chapter 33

Sarah

“I don’t understand.” Tears she’d thought were under control fought to break free again.
Damn him. He didn’t deserve her tears. Hell … he didn’t deserve
her
.

“He’s a complex creature, Sarah. I’m sure in his own mind he has a very good reason.” Kate sat on her right and Analise to her left. When Analise heard what had happened, she demanded that she and Damian return to Milwaukee for the evening.

“Well, I think he’s an asshat,” Analise declared, holding up her shot glass.

“Here, here,” Sarah agreed. “Cheers.” They both downed the smooth tequila, sans training wheels. Only pussies took their tequila with salt and lime.

In the last hour and a half, Analise and Sarah had each had at least three margaritas and two shots of tequila. Or was this three shots? Oh, who the hell was counting?

But while her mind was now pleasantly fuzzy, the alcohol hadn’t done a damn thing to lessen the crippling pain in her heart. In fact, it made it worse. Whose bright idea had it been to drink when she was already melancholy? Oh … whoops …
hers
.

“Damian and Dev will talk to him when he gets back and get to the bottom of this once and for all,” Analise snipped. Analise was good and pissed at Rom for hurting her this way. Thank God for sisters. They’d always have her back.

“I don’t want them to say anything. If he doesn’t want me, he doesn’t want me. I don’t want or need anyone’s goddamned pity, especially Romaric Dietrich’s.”

She stood and walked on wobbly legs—
okay, so she stumbled
—to the window, gazing out into the night sky. It was incredible how much brighter the evening sky was where Rom lived versus here. A pang of hurt caused the waterworks to start again.