Vampire, Interrupted (24 page)

Feeling like a fox dropped in the center of a hen house, Marguerite forced her fangs back into place
and hurried up the street, doing her best to weave around people to avoid contact. Unfortunately, they didn’t seem to have the same concern. They were brushing, bumping, and knocking her at every turn. It seemed that personal space wasn’t a consideration here, she thought with annoyance, withstanding the urge to grab the first plump mortal she passed and drag them into the nearest snickleway for a nibble. She had to get out of there.

Much to Marguerite’s relief, the crowd began to thin as she reached the end of the street. She’d broken free of the town center, she realized and paused to peer around. The roads here were wider, allowing vehicles and the first thing she spotted was a row of taxis at a stand. Breathing out with relief, she hurried to the first one in line and leapt into the backseat.

Pulling the door closed with a slam, Marguerite glanced toward the front of the taxi, only to frown when she realized the driver was missing. She twisted on the seat, peering about until she saw a handsome young man break away from a small group of men gathered by the third car. He nodded at her as he hurried toward the taxi and Marguerite relaxed back in the seat.

She eyed his throat as he slid into the driver’s seat in front, and then blinked as his voice sounded over the little intercom system between the glass separating front and back of the vehicle.

“Where to, love?”

Marguerite hesitated, and then asked, “Can I fly from York to Canada?”

He shook his head and turned in his seat to peer at her through the glass. His smile was engaging as his
eyes slid over her with interest. “Sorry, love. You’d be wantin’ an international airport for that. The nearest one is—”

“Take me to the train station,” Marguerite interrupted, uncaring where the nearest international airport was. If she couldn’t fly out of York, she’d return to London and fly out of there. She just wanted to get moving. While being in the taxi was better than being outside, the windows weren’t curtained and sunlight was still reaching her. The sooner she was indoors, the better.

Nodding, the man turned to face front and started the engine.

Marguerite noticed his eyes finding her repeatedly in the mirror and looking her over, but didn’t speak. Her own attention was fixated on the tan skin of his neck beneath his short-cut dark hair. She was hungry and not for food. Her cramping was becoming more insistent and painful.

She felt her teeth shift again in demand, and slid her tongue forward to touch the tip of one as she stared hard at the man’s neck, an image coming to mind of her leaning forward and burying her teeth in his throat. Of course, she couldn’t, the glass barrier was between them, but that didn’t stop the image from replaying through her head along with an imagining of the relief she would feel were she to do that. The pain would ease, and the clamoring in her would be reduced to a less frantic din. All she had to do was—

“Here we are.”

Marguerite blinked and glanced out the window at the people moving in and out of the doors he’d stopped in front of; the York train station. The idea
of having to move through that crowd while she was in such a state was a scary one.

“That’ll be—”

The driver’s words died as Marguerite turned back and slid inside his mind. Turning in his seat, he shifted gears and pulled out onto the road again, steering them out of the busy traffic and onto a quieter street. He pulled into a parking lot and parked, got out of the front seat and climbed into the back, his expression blank as he settled on the bench beside her.

Marguerite didn’t waste time. Shifting, she climbed onto his lap facing him, her knees on either side of his hips on the seat. She tilted his head to the side and sank her teeth into his neck. The driver’s body went stiff and he jerked as her fangs pierced skin, but then he moaned with excitement and raised his hands to grasp her hips as she began to share her pleasure and relief with him. Closing her eyes, Marguerite sighed and ignored the way he clutched at her hips, pulling her hard against him, her concentration was on the blood flowing into her body, easing the pain.

Twelve

“I thought you were going to let me buy you a drink?”

Marguerite smiled dryly at that laughing complaint from the man she was leading by the hand, and assured him, “I am.”

“Well, forgive me for saying so, love, but leading a man back here is like to make him think it’s more than a drink yer wantin’.”

“And what would a man think of that?” she asked with amusement, releasing his hand and turning to catch him by the tie instead as she backed farther into the quiet corner of the locker area where she’d brought several others over the last half hour.

Vampire on a rampage, she thought with self-mockery. It had been a long time since she had fed off the hoof. She’d forgotten how exhilarating it could be; choosing your prey, stalking him while al
lowing him to think he was stalking you, then luring them into a dark or deserted corner and…

“He’d be thinking he’s one lucky son of a bitch,” her prey admitted, his voice going low and husky as she bumped up against the lockers.

Chuckling, Marguerite ran one hand down his chest as she drew his head down with her hold on his tie and whispered, “Would you like me to tell you a secret?”

A slow smile spread across his face and he said, “Go on then, tell us.”

Smiling, she leaned up by his ear. His arms immediately closed around her, his hands roaming.

“I’m hungry,” Marguerite whispered. She felt his hands still in confusion, then clutch at her as she sank her teeth into his throat. In the next moment, he moaned and pulled her tight, pressing his body into hers as she fed. He was the sixth man she’d bitten since the taxi driver. Marguerite only took a little from each, but wished she could take more, she needed it. Her people were allowed to feed on mortals in an emergency, and this was an emergency. Unfortunately, the York train station had skylights overhead and no matter where she went, the sun seemed to follow. She doubted it was going to be much better on the train with all its windows. She couldn’t seem to escape the sun today and hoped it wasn’t an omen for the trip ahead.

Of course, one thing had gone right at least. Marguerite had borrowed a phone from her first blood donor and called Tiny’s mobile, managing to reach him when he was alone and her call wouldn’t draw the suspicion or attention of the Nottes. He was going
to slip out of the house and catch a taxi to the train station. They’d take a train back to London, and then catch a flight back to Canada. This whole episode of her life would be over and done with and she could start the miserable business of trying to forget it.

“Are you quite done? I’m growing tired of watching him squeeze your ass.”

Marguerite froze at those sharp words, her eyes popping open and landing on Julius Notte’s furious expression. Panic struck, followed by anger, but she controlled both and concentrated on retracting her teeth and her mind from the man she’d been feeding from, then released her snack and sent him on his way, the whole incident wiped from his memory.

Marguerite concentrated on him until he was out of sight before turning to face Julius.

“What are you doing here?” she asked grimly.

“Looking for my lifemate,” he snapped.

“Well, keep looking,” she said coldly and turned to walk back out into the station proper.

“I don’t have to, I found her,” Julius said, keeping pace with her and taking her arm.

“Sorry, I’m not your lifemate, I just
look like
her,” Marguerite said, shaking off his hold and then added sarcastically, “Lucky me. I must have the most common face in history. First Jean Claude and now you.” Pausing abruptly, she scowled at him. “What did you do with Tiny? I suppose you read him to find out I was here?”

“No. He told me.”

Her eyes widened in alarm, then narrowed and she hissed, “Liar.”

“I don’t lie,” Julius said quietly. “Tiny
did
tell me, and he’s here looking for you too along with Marcus and Christian. The four of us split up to search the station when we didn’t find you by the magazine shop where you were supposed to meet him.”

Shaking her head, she turned to walk away and he said, “Marguerite, we are lifemates. I can’t read or control you. I wish I could,” he added in a mutter. “I’d take control right now and march you out to the first taxi I could find and give you a good spanking for letting dirty old men touch you.”

“Dirty old men?” Marguerite cried, swinging around in disbelief. “He was a businessman, well dressed and clean-cut and he was no more than thirty-seven, a damned sight younger than you.”

“But he
looks
older,” Julius said smugly. He looked less than smug, however, when he added, “and he’s mortal. Probably disease ridden.”

Marguerite stared at his disgruntled face, the realization slowly dawning that he was jealous. Jean Claude had
never
been jealous. He’d enjoyed watching her feed on male mortals. In fact, she suspected he would have liked to see her do more than that and just hoped to God he hadn’t taken control and made her do so. If he had, she just didn’t want to know.

“Please, Marguerite,” Julius said quietly. “Just come with me and let me explain things.”

She shifted uncertainly, the request tempting, very tempting in fact. Marguerite wanted him to be able to explain all her worries and fears away. She didn’t want to lose him, but fear and pride made her shake her head and turn away. “I have to catch a train to London.”

“Good, we’re heading that way too, we’ll accompany you,” he said taking her arm again.

“I don’t want accompanying,” she said firmly, shaking off his hold.

“We have blood.”

She stopped abruptly.

“Nice, fresh, clean blood. Bags of it. You won’t have to hunt.”

Marguerite didn’t really care about bags of blood. She actually had been enjoying the hunt, but the blood might be a good face saver so it didn’t look like she was giving in for any other reason. She glanced around, noting that Christian and Marcus were making their way toward them from either side, and then she spotted Tiny hurrying toward them from straight ahead. He obviously wasn’t being controlled by anyone or held against his will and she frowned, wondering if Julius was really telling the truth. Had Tiny gone over to the other side?

Determined to find out, Marguerite slipped into his mind briefly, touching on his anxiety and worry that she would be angry at him, but also his determination that she give Julius a chance. He thought it was in her best interests. In fact, he was afraid it was the only way to keep her safe from…

“Jean Claude?” Marguerite murmured with confusion as she read the name in his mind, and then cried out as she was suddenly snatched up, hefted over Julius’s shoulder and being carted through the station at a dead run.

“Julius had your best interests at heart.”

Marguerite stopped pacing to scowl at Tiny. The
detective was sitting on her bed, eyeing her warily, both of which he’d been doing ever since entering her room at the townhouse several moments ago.

“Tiny,” she said with the slow care of someone who thought they were talking to an idiot, “he has kidnapped me.”

“No, he hasn’t,” the detective assured her quickly.

She snorted and arched an eyebrow. “He grabbed me, threw me over his shoulder, and charged through the train station like he was fleeing a burning building.”

“Yes, but—”

“And then,” Marguerite cut him off, “he continued to run all the way back here to the townhouse with me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I’m sure everyone was staring…although I couldn’t say for sure since I couldn’t see through the back of my skirt, which had fallen over my head,” she added acidly. “My butt must have looked like the full moon rising over his shoulder in the white lace panties I’m wearing. Thank God I didn’t put on a thong.”

“Your panties are very pretty,” he assured her soothingly. When she turned sharply on him, his eyes widened in alarm at the violence in her face and he said quickly, “I only saw them for a second when he first picked you up. I was running way behind after that. Even carrying you he’s inhumanly fast and I couldn’t keep up,” he added with disgruntlement, “Marguerite, he had your best interests at heart and you really haven’t been kidnapped.”

“I believe the definition of kidnapping is taking someone by force and holding them against their will and I am definitely unwilling.”

“Yes, but I’m sure you wouldn’t be if you’d just let him explain.”

“I don’t see him offering explanations,” she snapped.

“Because the minute he put you down in the townhouse, you stormed up here…and then you started screaming and throwing things at him when he followed you,” Tiny said with exasperation.

“I was upset,” Marguerite snapped.

“Yes, I know that and so does he, so he left you alone to calm down.”

“I’m calm,” she snarled.

Tiny merely pursed his lips doubtfully. “Look, you haven’t been kidnapped. The bedroom door isn’t locked, you can leave the room any time you want.”

“And if I tried to leave the townhouse?” she asked archly.

“He’d probably try to stop you,” Tiny acknowledged. “But it would be by reasoning with you. He didn’t mean to kidnap you. When you said Jean Claude’s name he thought you’d spotted him in the crowd and was just trying to keep you safe from him. Cut the guy some slack, Marguerite. He loves you.”

Her mouth twisted bitterly. “He doesn’t. He can’t. We hardly know each other.”

“Are you going to tell me you don’t love him too? Because you sure seemed pretty happy there for a day or so.”

“As I said, I hardly know the man, Tiny,” she said impatiently. “It can’t be love. It’s just a squash.”

“A squash?” he asked blankly.

She sighed. “An infatuation?”

“Oh, you mean crush,” he realized.

Marguerite waved her hand impatiently. “Crush, squash, it means the same thing.”