Undying Desire (12 page)

The room blurred around Arran with the speed of his strike. Ingrid released a whimper, and hot blood rushed over his tongue. Her fingers threaded through his hair, tugging him closer. Arran reached up and stilled Ingrid’s advances, backing his hips away from hers. This wasn’t about pleasure. The only purpose this feeding served was to save a fellow warrior—and friend.

His pulse raced under the influence of her life-giving essence, and with it, his connection to her mind strengthened. Arran dislodged his fangs and licked the wound, sealing her vein. Her flesh had already taken on the darkened color of a bruise in formation. Good. The mark would help with the hookup cover story he intended to plant in her mind when they were finished.

The whimper that had begun earlier from Ingrid had evolved into a moan. The human was extremely susceptible to the compulsion he’d used to induce pleasure, not pain, with his bite. A good thing, since her mind was like putty in his hands. Bad, since the putty existed with a single-minded purpose: sex. Arran moved from her throat, and her head lolled. He clasped her cheeks in his palms, steadying her.

“Ingrid.” With a receptive mind, compulsion worked beautifully on direct questions. But there were times when it was more beneficial to
see
what the other person had experienced. And this was one of those times. Ingrid could have witnessed something significant and had no idea.

“Hmm?” she replied in a throaty groan.

“It’s time to open your eyes.”

“No, no, no, no.” She shook her head against his hold. “Don’t stop,” she breathed, and clasped at his shirt for him to return.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to stop.” He wrapped his hands around hers. “But I need you to open your eyes first. Then we’ll have a real good time.” At least it’s what she’d leave believing.

Ingrid’s eyelids fluttered open, and Arran latched onto her gaze. He reached inside, curling his mind around hers, tightening his hold. A small gasp escaped her lips. With the added connection of her blood mingling with his, Arran should be able to get a clear picture of whom and what Ingrid had interacted with over the last forty-eight to seventy-two hours.

Layer by layer, Arran pushed through the protective fibers defending the source of her memories. Then without warning, it shattered. The barricade holding back the tidal wave of synaptic data unleashed. Garbled voices and images sped through his head like a movie reel on fast-forward. The room swam under the onslaught. His ears rang.

Had to…slow it down.

He staggered, losing his grip on her hands. Then a strong arm at his back stabilized him—Kenric.

“Control it, Arran,” the master’s deep voice whispered in his ear. “You’re in charge. Filter what you don’t need.”

Arran drew in a deep breath and clenched his fists. The stolen memories tumbling through his neurons slowed. All he needed was a second or two to screen whether or not they were relevant to his search. Multiple scenes of club life floated past. Night-to-night operations of the establishment taking place between Ingrid and a redhead: Mistress Fallon… The name, spoken more than once by the blonde, echoed in his head.

“We’re running out of time.” From a distance, Kenric’s voice worked its way into his consciousness. Arran managed a nod, continuing to sift through the fragments of the last few nights of Ingrid’s life. Damn, the woman spent a lot of time at the Rose’s Thorn.

“Whoa…” Arran slammed on the mental brakes inside his head.

“What is it?” Within his vision, the large dark form of the other vampire drew closer to his side.

“Guerin. He’s at the bar, asking to speak to the owner. This is the right night.” Arran’s heart pounded.

“The redhead, the one she calls Mistress Fallon, is agreeing to meet with him.”

Come on, let’s see who gives you the note
. Mentally, Arran whisked through the next few frames inside her mind.

Show me…show me.
Damn! He was so close. Then… His breath hitched.

Got you!

“Mistress Fallon.”

“What?”

“She’s the one who gave the note to Ingrid.” Arran risked a glance at Kenric. One corner of the master’s lip curled.

“Good work.”

Arran returned back to his source of information. “Ingrid, you still with me?”

“Yes,” she softly uttered.

“Very good.” He reached out, slipped one of his palms in hers, and squeezed. “Ingrid, have you spoken to or seen Mistress Fallon today?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“Where is she?”

“She didn’t say. Mistress called to let me know she wasn’t injured in the fire.”

His gaze darted to Kenric, then back to Ingrid. “What fire?”

“The fire that destroyed her home behind the club. She called to say she was okay but didn’t know when she’d be back to work. She would be staying out of town for a while.”

“Interesting…,” Kenric added. “Her home burns the day after she plans to meet with my second-in-command.” A charged moment of silence passed between them. “Unusual timing, don’t you agree?”

“Oh, yeah. Some coincidence.”

“See what other images you can gather from her memories of the other night. What happened after she gave the bartender the note?”

Arran once again pushed into her mind, fast-forwarding back to the night.
What else did you see, Ingrid?
Interactions with club guests. Mistress Fallon in her office, then Ingrid watching her boss from the rear of the club. Fallon is meeting with Guerin, but—wait.
Well, who do we have here?
Same clothes as Mistress Fallon, but not the same hair. And the look on Guerin’s face…
Could it be? Lucky for us you’re a bad, bad girl, Ingrid, spying on your boss.
If she would only move close enough to hear what they were saying… But before he could learn more, Ingrid turned, and moved back toward the club door.

“Damn!”

“Well…?” Kenric demanded, impatience ringing in his voice.

“Your instincts were right.” Arran glanced at the other vampire. “Ingrid saw more. She’d followed Mistress Fallon when she met with Guerin.” Kenric’s brows lifted. “And based on Guerin’s expression when Fallon showed up and had suddenly gone from a redhead to a brunette…” Arran pivoted on his heels, facing Kenric.

“Fallon is Eve.”

“We found her,” Kenric said. “Son of a…” He shook his head as if the knowledge that his supposed daughter was within reach had rattled his brain cells.

Arran backed away from a soundly sleeping Ingrid. She lay with her head on the armrest of the office’s black leather love seat. The memories of their time together neatly altered to reflect an intimate encounter with a man whose description he didn’t match. Satisfied that all the loose ends were tied up, he turned toward Kenric.

“So logic dictates that if we find Eve, aka Fallon, we find Guerin.”

“I agree.” Kenric sauntered closer and peered down at the pink-wrapped female. “She mentioned that Fallon had called yesterday.”

“That’s right.” Arran pivoted on his heel and faced him.

“That would mean”—Kenric tossed him a sideways glance—”Eve left her calling card on Ingrid’s phone.”

“Damn. That’s right.” Not wasting another second, Arran leaned over, and after mumbling a quick apology, checked the pockets practically molded to Ingrid’s backside. The first one was a bust, but the second… A hard rectangular object formed a ridge under the latex. Arran slipped his fingers inside. “Got it.” He straightened and held up the slender rhinestone-encased iPhone between his thumb and forefinger.

“Excellent.”

Arran slid the pad of his finger across the lock bar and went straight for her recent call log. After a quick scroll, the name “Fallon,” showed up on two calls from yesterday afternoon. One incoming—one outgoing. His gut tightened.

We’re one more step closer, Guerin. Hang on.

“Found it.” Arran handed the display over to Kenric.

The other warrior gripped the phone, his gaze hovering over the screen, then, “Let’s get out of here,” he said without looking Arran’s way, his voice gruff. The sound of frustration laced with pain couldn’t be missed in the other vampire’s words. Arran didn’t know how Kenric had kept from taking his head off for partnering with Guerin on this plan. Kenric turned and led the way. After easing the door open and checking the hallway, they slipped through the corridor and made a beeline for the exit.

At the XJL, Kenric handed over the cell, then rounded the rear of the car toward the driver’s side. “I’ll drive.”

Arran took the passenger seat, the smell of leather and wood enveloping him. Kenric settled in behind the wheel and pressed start. The engine roared to life. The dark warrior wrapped his hand around the wheel, the leather encased inside his palms releasing a squeak under the pressure of his grip.

“I want you to get Gabrielle on this,” Kenric commanded, his gaze directed at the windshield. “See what she can do to get a GPS location on Eve with her cell number.” After a moment, he shifted and faced Arran. “With any luck, she’s left her damn phone on, and it’ll lead us straight to Guerin.”

“We’ll find him.” Arran nodded. “We’ll find Guerin and your daughter.”

Kenric jerked his head back to the wheel, shifted the car into reverse, and accelerated out of the parking lot. The crunch of gravel scattering under the wide tread filled the cabin, then the car dipped, and they were back out on the main road.

“We don’t know she’s my daughter,” Kenric spat. “And I refuse to buy in to Marguerite’s attempt to cleanse her soul on her deathbed. I need more proof.”

“I get it. It blew my mind when I heard it, too. I can only imagine what Emily thought of this last-ditch effort of Marguerite’s.”

When Kenric didn’t respond, Arran glanced over. The other male’s throat bobbed, then he added, “She doesn’t know about Eve.”

Oh, fuck.

“She went through so much hell with Marguerite. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her about this preposterous claim without some damn proof.” Kenric released the wheel long enough to slam his palm back onto it.

“You don’t have to convince me. I understand.” Arran released a long sigh. “You don’t want to hurt her.”

“How the hell do you think she’s going to handle hearing about a daughter I gave to a woman as evil as Marguerite—a woman who tried to kill us both? A child, because of me, Emily will never carry. One that we’ll never share.” A groan rose from his chest. “How do I tell her that?” His gaze flickered toward Arran. “Tell me, Arran. If this is true, how do I do that to her?”

Arran’s chest constricted. He braced his elbow on the door and rubbed his hand over the lower half of his face. The rough feel of the late day’s growth of beard scratched his palm. “Son of a bitch,” he cursed through his fingers. “I don’t know, man.” Arran shook his head. “But for what it’s worth, and in case you’re wondering—” Arran turned and stared out the passenger window at the dark countryside. “I haven’t told Gabrielle everything. I didn’t feel it was my place to tell her until you knew more and were ready. So she won’t divulge any info about Eve to Emily.”

“Thanks.” The soft-spoken response pulled Arran’s gaze back to Kenric.

“I’ll get Gabrielle working on this now.” Arran pulled his cell from his jacket.

…

A low-frequency vibration emanated from the dark-burgundy jacket Seth had tossed onto the chaise in front of the bedroom window. He gave his mind a gentle shake and did his best to focus his attention on the clitoris of his Mistress and forget the cell phone’s beckoning. He knew better than to neglect his immediate duty: bringing her to yet another orgasm. The stripes on his back were still healing from the previous night when he’d failed to bring her Eve.

“For God’s sake, answer your damn phone,” she growled and shoved at his head, knocking him away from her pussy. “You’re no good to me distracted.”

Seth slunk away from the bed and onto the floor, crawling on his hands and knees toward the buzz. He bit back a growl of his own.
Too many years of this shit.
He’d been her puppet, her slave, for more years than he cared to remember. Granted, there was a bit of love and hate to their…
relationship
. He’d always had a fondness for S&M, and she was a master at pain. It was what had drawn him to her. But the female took her desire to dominate and humiliate too far. He’d stayed this long because her money and colony had given him the means he’d needed to get close to Eve, but once he had that bitch…Christ. He was going to enjoy watching his current Mistress bleed, beg—his cock twitched under the weight of the thick metal ring twisted around his shaft and balls.

“You may stand.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” he replied, using his well-rehearsed tone of submission. Seth stood, strode the remaining few feet to the chaise, and retrieved his cell. “Speak.”

“Sir, there’s been an interesting development I felt you should be aware of.” Seth recognized the voice: one of his minions who’d been watching the Rose’s Thorn since the burnout. At some point, Eve or someone on her behalf would come back, and they’d be waiting.

“Well, don’t make me have to pull it out of you,” Seth bit out.

“Two vampires entered the club tonight. Never seen them before. One very old. He reeked of power. Possibly a master. He and the other male spoke with the bartender, and then met with the club’s manager in back.”

Fuck me!
There would be only one reason a master vampire would risk entering another’s territory—unannounced—and showing his face at the Rose’s Thorn: Eve. Too much of a coincidence for there to be any other explanation. Someone else was after her. His pulse throbbed in his temples. She was
his
.

“Don’t let them out of your sight,” Seth ordered.

“Already taken care of. I’m following them as we speak.”

“Good. I want to know their every move.” If they found her, excellent. But they’d die before they laid claim. Seth tapped end call and tossed the device back onto his jacket. His fists curled of their own accord, the blood boiling in his veins. He would have Eve. He’d endured too much not to have her. Rage festered in his gut. His vision hazed to red.