Vampire - Dead By Dusk Part 38

He was pleased with himself; he'd already visited both girls, and he'd toyed with the idea of only playing with one. And here they were, together. How lovely, and how convenient. And how very much fun.

Lena got the cross, ripping it from Suzette's neck. She cast it down on the living room floor.

He grabbed a pillow from the couch and threw it on top of the offensive piece.

"And now!" he said. "The two of you... ah, well!"

They were huddled at the bottom of the stairs together, both wide-eyed, staring at him, awaiting his next order. The one, pet.i.te, dark, and gorgeous with her inky eyes; the other, a little snow princess, blond with blue eyes.

Oh, yes. This could be the greatest entertainment he had yet afforded himself. Better, even, he mused, than the prize he awaited.

But the real prize was power. And he craved that more than any other sensory pleasure he could take at will.

But for the moment... He walked to the pair, ran a finger down Suzette's peaches-and-cream arm, then stroked the rise of Lena's breast.

"Suzette, you will undo those b.u.t.tons from Lena..." he began.

Then, something struck him, and he glanced at his watch, and cursed.

It wasn't going to be quite as much fun as he had intended.

"Make it quick!" he barked at Lena.

He needed to hurry. And still...

It was indeed entertaining. He savored the taste of the blonde while the brunette stroked and soothed her.

And he all but drained the brunette while he watched what the blonde was doing between her thighs.

The ecstasy was almost his undoing. Still, it all seemed to please him with a volatile, sensory delight greater than an explosion from Etna.

He had to stop himself. He didn't want them dead.

Yet.

As he gently settled the girls on the ground, sated, nearly bloated, he felt a moment's chill.

The other was near!

He gritted his teeth and fought the fear.

He was cloaked in a way that masked him. He was safe. And when he was done...

He would have all the power he had ever craved. And a world, a huge world, with a ma.s.sive population, in which to play.

And conquer.

Chapter 15.

Grant sat at the table long after Lucien and Jade had gone, staring at his coffee cup. Stephanie did the same.

Then she rose. She smiled at him weakly. "I've got to get some sleep. And I've got to go up and do something about that curtain."

She left him sitting at the table. They hadn't exchanged a word with one another about the entire bizarre occurrence that night or the even more absurd conversation they had just had with Lucien and Jade-or Clay and Liz.

They were liars. They had to be liars. Fakers, magicians, liars.

But they weren't.

Previous Top NextStephanie was right. They were both so tired that they were bleary-eyed. There had been far too much happening in a day for either of them to understand or accept.

Or deny.

Grant rose.

He had seen Stephanie lock the front door. He checked it anyway. He checked the downstairs back door as well.

Daytime, he mocked himself. They were probably safe anyway.

He climbed the stairs to the loft, his footsteps heavy. When he reached the bedroom area, Stephanie was busy trying to balance the broken rod on the sliding gla.s.s doors and stuff the billowing white drapes back over it. He caught her in the act, pulling her against him. For a minute, he just held her there. Ridiculous thoughts filled him. At least the suave b.a.s.t.a.r.d was married!

Yep, he was a vampire, but h.e.l.l, a married one. Surely, that made it all better.

And yet...

He felt again the fierce desire that he had felt for Stephanie from the moment he had met her, a love so intense it was frightening.

And he didn't need to be afraid of Clay Barton...

h.e.l.l, no! Just some ancient, evil corpse brought back to life because of an earthquake. An evil being who, for some reason, wanted Stephanie.

He nuzzled his face against her nape, feeling her hair tease his skin. And he told her almost urgently, "I would die for you. I would die without you!"

She might have turned around and told him that he had best get a life-they weren't really together. She had let him stay because he was so insistent. She had made love with him because they were both healthy and vital and their chemistry was a combustible match.

But she didn't. She turned into his arms, and let him hold her. For a moment, she was vulnerable, grateful just to feel secure in the circle of his arms. He lifted her chin. So much of their lovemaking had been desperate and wild. He kissed her very gently, slowly, savoring the feel of his lips against her, the taste of her mouth, the depth and texture of it. She stirred. He instantly felt a quickening in himself. So much for a tender moment.

She drew away.

"The drapes," she reminded him.

"Um, we would be just about on television, huh?" he said.

"Well, kind of. And if you look below... Giovanni is delivering someone's luggage, the maids are moving about... and one of the cooks is outside, smoking," she said dryly.

He laughed, stepping forward with the bent rod, and lifting it. It wouldn't fit. He lowered it before himself and straightened it, then set it back on the hooks. Not perfect, but it was going to stay. Stephanie was behind him with the drapes. He took them from her, reaching up to see that they were attached to enough places to provide them complete privacy.

He turned back to her.

Her clothes were strewn. She was already in the bed. The room was cast in shadow again, while outside, the sun blazed.He came to her.

She wasn't in a tender mood. She rose to meet him, her hands upon his clothing, her whisper hot in the shadows. "Tonight...

G.o.d, I want to crawl into your skin, I need to be with you, a part of you, so badly!"

She was on her knees against him. He caught her jaw tenderly, firmly, and found her lips again. She returned the kiss with a wanton abandon, still tugging anxiously on his clothing. Their mouths remained meshed while they both struggled with b.u.t.tons, zippers, and then the denim of his jeans. When they came together, flesh against flesh, it was as if they seared to one another.

Her hands were everywhere on him. He gripped her tightly, melding her to him, but she tossed her head back, sending kisses flying in a sea of desperation against his chest and shoulders. She shoved him back. He allowed it. She rubbed her body down the length of his, the friction of her flesh against his an erotic sensation long before she made it far more intimate-teeth, lips, and tongue playing wickedly on his flesh, against his thighs, his abdomen, his s.e.x. Acute arousal seared into him, and he halfway rose, lifting her, bringing her down against him, letting her ride the heat, the rhythm of his choice until the urge to increase the tempo soared in him like a wildfire of need, and caught her tightly, rolling against the sheets with her, taking her position on top.

The world rocked and thundered; he felt his climax come upon him as explosively as fireworks. His very essence seemed to flow into her. She had said that she'd wanted to crawl into his skin. He felt as if they did, somewhere, all but become one...

Her body shuddered and quaked in his arms, and at last, still embraced, she went still. Her fingers played in his hair and he eased himself to her side, scooping her against him.

Then...

He heard the noise. Downstairs.

She tensed in his arms. But he'd heard it, too. Someone at the downstairs door, someone trying to get in.

He leapt out of the bed, a.s.suring himself that the gla.s.s doors were locked; then, heedless of his state of total undress, he flew down the stairs. A crack of brilliant daylight was flooding in.

The top bolt was on; the door could only part an inch.

"Buongiorno!" a cheerful voice called.

He collapsed against the wall. The maid! It was daytime, morning.

"Buongiorno!" he returned, and all his Italian fled from his mind. "We're still, uh, sleeping!" he told her.

"Mr displace! A piu tardi!" the maid a.s.sured him.

The door closed over the crack. He hit the bottom lock again.

Stephanie, raven's wing hair cascading in a wild tangle over her shoulders, was standing at the top of the stairs.

"The maid," he told her, but she already knew.

They both burst into laughter. He tore up the stairs, and swept her back up into his arms. They both continued to laugh as they crashed down on the bed.

Not too terribly much later, they actually fell asleep.

"Drew?"Drew had dozed in the chair. The sound of his name brought him instantly and fully awake. He felt a startled sense of panic, but he was awake.

"Doug?" he said anxiously.

"Yeah, man."

Doug was sitting up in the bed. He didn't look pale, haggard-h.e.l.l, he didn't even look sick!

"Hey... you look great."

"Yeah? I feel... weird."

"You should. We nearly lost you last night," Drew told him.

Doug grimaced, and stretched his muscles. "Really weird. And hungry."

"I'll get you something."

Doug made a face. "No... I'm in the hospital, right? I don't want any hospital food."

"All right. I'll go out and get you something and bring it back."

"A steak. Really rare."

"Hey! Don't get too picky on me, buddy. I've got to see what I can find somewhere near here-the cafe is really good, though,"

Drew a.s.sured him.

Doug made a face. There was an IV dripping into his arm. He looked at it with distaste. "I gotta get out of here!" he said.

"You've got to sit tight, and deal with it," Drew said firmly. "Wait until Dr. Antinella sees you. I have a feeling he may want you to stay a few more days. In fact, I think I'll get one of the nurses to check with him-just make sure he doesn't want you on a special diet or anything."

"I'm feeling great," Doug said. He grinned. "Honestly."

"And you still don't remember anything?" Drew asked him curiously.

Doug shook his head. "Just... coming in from the beach." He hesitated, then stared at Drew beseechingly. "I really need something that's like real, live food. You all must have been through h.e.l.l last night, and I really appreciate it, but... man, I'm hungry."

"All right, sit tight. I'm on it," Doug told him.

Out in the hallway, he ran into one of the nurses. He smiled awkwardly, knowing that he wouldn't begin to know how to ask her if it was okay for him to bring in outside food for Doug. Maybe she spoke English. He tried. "My friend... mio amico... ah...

desidero mangiare. Posso... io ..."

"What does he desire?" the nurse asked, smiling. She was an attractive woman in her late twenties or early thirties who apparently knew English just fine.

"He's very hungry, but he wants a steak. Is it all right if I go out and find him one?"