Undying Desire (11 page)

His dark gaze captured hers, and time slowed to a crawl. She had no idea how long they remained like that: connected. But when the moment came to disrupt what they’d created, an odd sense of what Eve could define only as sorrow washed over her. As if deep down, she knew once everything was out in the open they could never go back.

“This wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Then tell me what we’re doing here. Why are you in my life, Guerino, and exactly what do you want from me?”

Chapter Eleven

Arran stepped from the Enclave’s rented Jag, pulling the dark shades from his face. He squinted at the red neon sign mounted a few feet away over the club’s dark dungeon-esque door. A fallen red rose glared off its black backdrop with a prominent single thorn pointing north. A drop of blood hung from its spiked tip.

“This was Guerin’s location the last time you spoke to him?” Kenric joined Arran and glanced up at the club’s logo. Arran nodded.

“The informant told Guerin that Eve’s last known location was here at the Rose’s Thorn.”

Kenric’s nostrils flared. “Smells like there was a fire close by and not too long ago.” The master vampire’s gaze swept his surroundings.

“Yeah. I agree.” The scent of charred wood singed his nostrils. Reflex had Arran passing a hand over his face as if he could wipe the odor away.

“All right.” Kenric worked the leather between his gloved fingers. “Let’s get inside and piece together something that’ll point us to our missing second-in-command—so I can kill him before somebody else gets the chance.” He sauntered in the direction of the door, his boot heels crunching on the gravel parking lot.

Arran smoothed his palm over the stubble on his lower jaw, chewing on the impact of Kenric’s last statement. He shook his head.
Nah, he wouldn’t.
Arran slid his hand to the back of his neck, working the knot building at the base of his skull. No doubt Kenric probably felt like killing the vampire, but he knew the master of the Enclave, and honor would never allow him to act on emotion alone.

For the entire flight, Kenric had barely said a word, uttering only what was necessary. Arran almost wished their mates had joined them. Emily’s company might have been a calming presence for the other vampire. But there was no way either warrior would have put them at risk by bringing them on this mission. Besides, someone had to stay behind with Michael to make sure Markus was kept secure and alive. Not an easy task since he ate only by force, and the only one able to achieve that would be two thousand miles away in Germany. Neither option was a perfect one. But Markus was locked away, in a weakened condition, and no threat to their mates. Kenric had made sure to get an extra meal into the wasting vampire prior to their departure. If all went well, they’d be back in the States before Markus required another feeding.

He followed Kenric into the dimly lit club. The chest-vibrating beat took him back nearly a year ago to Fairfield, South Carolina, and Wicked Ways, the Goth club where he’d stumbled into Gabrielle after he’d left the Enclave. His cock twitched at the memory.
Damn.
He’d never get enough of her. Didn’t want to. Arran wanted to savor every second, touch, and pleasure that was Gabrielle. Forever.

“The bar.” Kenric tapped his shoulder, yanking him back to the present.

“What?”

Kenric leaned in closer and shouted over the music near Arran’s ear. “The bar.” He nodded in the direction of the massive piece of architecture and added, “Let’s see what the bartender can tell us.”

After passing through a few dozen gyrating bodies, they snagged a couple of empty stools. The crack of a whip sizzled through the air. Arran turned toward the origin of the sound. At the back of the club, a couple of halogen spotlights glared off a St. Andrew’s cross in the corner of the room. A bound, nude woman swiveled to the dance of the whip at her thighs and buttocks. A small group had gathered around the display, enthralled in the action. Arran’s gaze fell to the vampire at his side.

“Nice place,” he mumbled.

“Interesting,” Kenric added with a quirk of his lips.

“Was möchten Sie?”

Both men turned their heads in the direction of the bartender’s voice. Wearing only a pair of cutoff jeans and twin piercings in his nipples, he stood with his hands braced on the edge of the wood, waiting for their order. Kenric held up two gloved fingers. “Vodka,
bitte.
”

The man nodded, then went to work on their shots. Arran leaned toward Kenric. “You actually think this guy’s going to tell us anything about what goes down here?”

Kenric cocked his head. “Absolutely not,” he scoffed.

“What I figured.” Arran straightened as the bartender returned with their drinks. He fisted his and tossed it to the back of his throat.

“Excuse me,” Kenric called out to their hovering bartender as Arran plopped the shot glass back onto the bar’s high-gloss surface. The man moved in the elder vampire’s direction, capturing the open bottle of Stoli in the process. He glanced at Kenric, then to Arran, and lifted the liquor to offer another round. Arran covered the glass with his palm and shook his head. The one shot had been for the sake of appearances. He nodded and returned his attention to Kenric.

Kenric crooked his finger, drawing the other guy closer.
“Sprechen sie English?”

“Einwenig.”
He cleared his throat. “I know a little.”

“Excellent.” Kenric placed both elbows on the wood, bringing them face-to-face. “Then I need you to listen very closely.” The other man’s gaze met the master vampire’s, then glazed.

Bam.

He had him.

A vampire as old and powerful as Kenric required only a mere second to grab a human’s mind. Arran glanced around the room, keeping an eye out for anyone paying too much attention. A few uninterrupted moments was all they needed for Kenric to find out if the bartender had seen Guerin. He swung his head back to the mind-melded duo. Under the beam of halogen lightening, a fine sheen of sweat glistened on Kenric’s brow. He was pushing hard and fast to get in and out of the bartender’s mind quickly.

Arran swung his attention once more to the dance floor. A petite, young brunette wiggled her hips and pivoted around at the same time, flashing him a drunken smile.
Shit.
He jerked his gaze to his partner and the human.

The two hadn’t moved. Arran groaned, then swiveled on the stool.

Damn, but
she
had.

Her head swayed from Arran, then to the brain-locked pair. Party girl’s mouth fell open, and she slurred some version of a question in German that sounded like “what was up with them?”
Oh, hell no.

He wasn’t doing this.

Arran slammed a wave of compulsion into the mind of the sloshed twenty-something. With the language barrier, he was limited to giving her only a sense of urgency to turn and leave. It would have to do. Her eyelids shuttered and she staggered. Arran jumped from the stool, steadied her, then guided her in the opposite direction.
Off you go.
She hesitated for a split second as if mulling over what she’d been doing there, then proceeded back into the crowd.

Kenric tapped his shoulder. The bartender had moved away and now stood at the sink, wiping his face with a damp paper towel. He looked as if he’d eaten something bad, but the effects should wear off in an hour or so.

“Let’s talk.” Kenric nodded toward a vacant booth, then headed in that direction. A couple of heartbeats later, Arran slid onto the leather seat across from the other vampire.

“So what did you learn?”

“Guerin was here.” He nodded. “I got a good image of him at the bar. At one point in the night, a female, blonde, lots of black latex, handed him a note to give to Guerin.”

“Any idea what it said?” Arran shifted in his seat.

“Yeah. Luckily, the guy couldn’t resist taking a look.” Kenric swiped a hand through his hair. “Someone wanted him to meet them behind the club if he wanted more info about Eve.”

“Shit.” Arran growled deep in his throat. “That must have been what Guerin was up to the last time we spoke. Going to meet whoever sent him the little invite.” Frustration brewed like a storm in the other vampire’s eyes, clouding the blue. Kenric shoved away from the table, rocking the back of the bench with his sudden movement.

“Entschuldigen sie bitte.”
Both men swiveled their heads in the direction of the tall raven-haired server, wearing a red corset and not much else but a smile. She stood at their table, empty tray in hand. “Beer, wine?” She continued, propping her hands and tray on the table, her breasts nearly spilling from the confines of her top.

“Nein,”
Kenric shook his head. “No. No, thank you.”

The server stepped away, and Arran returned his attention to Kenric.
Wait a minute. This might not be a dead end after all.

“You said a blonde in latex gave the bar guy the note, right?”

“That’s right…”

“From what you saw, do you think you would recognize her again?”

Kenric appeared to study the remembered image in his mind for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I probably would.”

“Ten bucks says she works here.” Arran glanced around the room, placed his elbows on the table, and laced his fingers. “Give me ten minutes with her and—”

“We’ll find out who wanted some alone time with Guerin.” A slow grin formed on Kenric’s face.

“Let’s find our courier.” Arran slid from the seat.

With the amount of leather each warrior had draped himself in this evening, they had no trouble blending in with the fetish crowd. They maneuvered around the perimeter of the room, scoping out the residents of high-backed booths and the grinding couples under the black lights on the floor.

Near the front entrance, Arran turned to check on Kenric’s progress when a familiar scent—one that wasn’t his master’s—jerked him to a halt. A glimpse at Kenric’s expression said he’d caught a whiff too.
Vampire.
Both did a three-sixty, attempting to get a bead on the other bloodsucker who’d joined them in the room. But as quickly as the molecules had appeared in the air, they were gone.

Dammit.

Kenric snagged his arm, pulling him in. “Let’s find the girl, get what we came for, then blow this place before we bring any more attention to ourselves,” he said, his voice low and gruff. “The last thing we need is lost time soothing a bruised ego of the master of the colony here, since I didn’t announce our intended arrival.”

Arran nodded. “I hear you.”

“Wait…” Kenric’s gaze darted toward the crowd. “There.” He indicated with a tilt of his head a full-figured blonde wrapped in tight pink latex, making her way across the floor. “That may be who we’re looking for.” Kenric slipped through the crowd and Arran stayed close, following his lead. A few feet away, she pivoted, facing them. Kenric glanced back and announced, “That’s her.”

Arran tapped him on the shoulder in confirmation, before brushing past him. “My turn.” He sauntered over, painting his best grin on his face. The blonde didn’t miss his approach, beaming a smile of her own back at him. He didn’t like having to lead the woman on. He had all the female he needed at home, but this was for Guerin, for Kenric, and for the Enclave. The information she held inside her head could save not just one warrior’s life but all of theirs.

“Hi there,” Arran said, slowing to a stop in front of her.

“Hallo.”
Her matching pink smile broadened.

He reached out and trailed his fingertips down her arm, then leaned in at her ear.
“Sprechen sie English?”

“Ja—yes.” She nodded. “I speak English.”

“Excellent.” Arran straightened, then lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger, bringing her gaze to his. “I need you to take us somewhere private. Do you understand?”

Her smile faded right before her lips parted as if on the verge of a question, then her eyes clouded. “I understand.” The statement tumbled from her instead.

“Good girl,” Arran replied, releasing his hold on her. “What’s your name?”

“Ingrid.”

“Take me somewhere quiet, okay, Ingrid?” Arran brushed a stray hair behind her ear. To onlookers it would appear like flirtation, a hookup for the next few minutes. “Everything is going to be fine.”

Ingrid blinked, then sauntered toward a small, dimly lit corridor. Arran kept close, but glimpsed Kenric in his peripheral vision, keeping them in sight.

Arran watched as Ingrid retreated farther down the hall, pausing at the second door on her right. She pulled a set of keys suspended on a chain from her cleavage, then slipped one of them in the lock. Kenric stood leaning against the wall at the entryway, staring out at the crowd. But Arran knew the other vampire was aware of their every move.

The door opened and she stepped inside. Arran eased over the threshold and surveyed the room: an office. Except for a small wooden desk and a couple of chairs, the room was empty. He returned to the door, glanced down the hall, and gave Kenric the all-clear signal for him to join them.

With her back to the desk, Ingrid waited for her next instruction. “Very good, Ingrid.” Arran drew closer and her chin lifted, keeping her gaze locked with his. “This is perfect.” The door clicked behind him, signaling Kenric’s arrival, followed by the clunk of the deadbolt. The master vampire’s presence moved in beside him.

Being the younger of the two vampires in the room, Arran possessed the mental strength to grasp flashes of images from a human’s mind. But to search their memories for more, Arran needed assistance to go deeper—blood. It had been years since he’d pushed that far. But it wasn’t as if he was some damn new trans. He was more than capable of getting the job done.

“I need you to relax for me, Ingrid. Can you do that?” She tilted her head, and her eyes narrowed. Her expression told the story of the battle playing out between human will and the compulsion laced in his words. “Relax, Ingrid,” he whispered the words again, then cupped her face. She leaned into his caress and the lines of worry in her face softened. “That’s it.” Arran brushed the loose strands of hair away from her throat, exposing her pulse. “Close your eyes now.” Her lashes lowered, the tension visibly leaving her body. Arran flicked his gaze at Kenric, and the master nodded his go-ahead.