Undying Embrace (4 page)

“Fine,” he said; the word sounded punished by his vocal cords. “Let’s start this over. Hello, Gabrielle.” He stuck out his palm. With everyone else, she was just Elle. But not with Arran. He’d always insisted on using her full name. He said that Gabrielle suited her, felt right. And good luck with trying to change the vampire’s mind. Besides, it wasn’t such a hardship to bear. Somehow, when he said her name, Arran made every consonant sound beautiful, musical.

She glanced up at him, then back to his upturned hand. What would it hurt? She could do this. Elle slid her hand into his. Warm fingers wrapped around hers and gently squeezed. Elle’s eyelids lowered at the sensation. What was it about this man that his touch held so much power over her? The up-and-down action of their wrists slowed to a stop, but he didn’t pull away. She opened her eyes. Her gaze dropped to their joined palms, then followed the line of his arm up to his bicep, bulging under the black T-shirt that looked like wild animals had shredded the front.
Yum-mee
. When their gazes met, he blinked, and his hand slipped from hers. For a brief second, she could have sworn…

The lighting in this place was playing tricks with her mind. She gave her head a gentle shake, because there was no way he wanted her like that. If he did, he would have never left.

“We have to talk.” Arran motioned with his head in the direction of the front door. “But not here. Would you at least step outside with me?” He paused, and the muscles in his jaw worked overtime before he added, “Please.”

She could tell he was really trying to be patient and polite. And for Arran, the fact that he’d just thrown out a please was significant. Elle grabbed her purse, swiveled her bar stool in the opposite direction, and slid to her feet. He fell in behind her as she headed for the door. Whatever he had to say had better be good, because she was not ending the search for her sister just so he didn’t have to be annoyed with her presence.

The cool breeze outside the club was a welcome relief from the steamy and overheated environment inside. Elle stopped a few steps outside.

“Now, what it is you have to talk to me about that we can’t discuss inside?” She propped one hand on her hip and turned to face him.

“Where’s your car?” Loose strands of his multicolored hair blew across his face. The tendrils of blond and black appeared so soft in contrast to the warrior vampire standing in front of her. They shimmered in the harsh white light of the streetlamp. She wondered what they would feel like brushing across her face—her breasts—as he held himself over her and…

Swiping the hairs away from his eyes with one hand, he tucked them behind his ear. The sudden movement wrenched her back to reality.
Get a grip, woman. That’s not happening.

Elle pointed to her Lexus across the street. “My car’s right there, but I’m not getting in it.” She shook her head. “I’m not finished here.”

“Just talk. That’s all I’m asking. What I have to say can’t be said here.” Nodding in the direction of her car, he grasped her upper arm. “Let’s go.” Arran nearly dragged her across the street.

Elle swatted at his hand. “God, you’re like some caveman.” She yanked her arm free and came to a dead stop in the middle of the road.

He spun and faced her. “What are you doing?”

She glared. “Let’s get something straight, right now.”

Arran crossed his arms, his eyebrows rising in expectation.

“That will be the last time you manhandle me. You jerk me around like that again, and there
will
be bloodshed.” She paused for maximum effect. “Yours. Not mine.”

His arms dropped to his sides, and she could have sworn a growl resonated from his body. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Elle held her ground. She’d be damned if she let him intimidate her. The air rushed from his lungs in rapid, shallow bursts. She locked her gaze with his. How, she didn’t know, but the sage green color of his eyes had changed, deepened into a glistening emerald. The energy spiked between them like a crackling experiment in static electricity. Her nipples pebbled to hard, sensitive points that rubbed against the leather of her top with every labored breath. Damn. How did the switch inside her get tripped, taking her from pissed-off to aroused-as-hell in an instant?

A horn blew, and Elle jumped. Both swung their heads in the direction of the oncoming headlights and then hustled the rest of the way across the street. Arran’s boots beat the pavement behind her.

After popping the lock on her car with the remote, she opened the door, and sank into her seat behind the wheel. Less than two seconds later, Arran joined her in the passenger seat. The cushion released a sigh under his weight as he sank onto the soft leather. His door slammed shut with an ominous
thud.

Breathe. That’s all she had to do. Breathe and find something other than him to look at. She studied the line of parking meters and streetlamps out her window, both hands resting on the steering wheel. Arran was sitting in her car.
Wonder what shade of green you’d call that on the meters?
If she looked at him, it would be too real. Larger than life. And she didn’t know what—or how—to feel about that yet.

The shuffle of their boots and the squeak of leather became the only sound between them. Elle reached into her purse and dug around on the bottom until she found a peppermint. She really didn’t like the taste of beer. The noise of the wrapper uncoiling off the candy felt magnified times ten within the tension of the car. She popped the mint into her mouth and rolled the sweet candy around on her tongue—waiting. The unnerving silence blossomed like a building thunderhead, threatening to crash down around them.

This was a serious mistake.

Someone had to go first and end the stalemate and she was more than ready for him to get to the point about what was so damn important. Inhaling deeply, Elle shifted in Arran’s direction. Her fist clamped down on the steering wheel, and her teeth grabbed hold of her lower lip. Arran sat with his back pressed against the passenger door, as if he couldn’t get enough distance between them. In the darkness of the car, his eyes glowed with a fiery ring around them. One hand clutched the dashboard hard. The veins in his arm stood out in sharp relief in the shadows underneath the windshield. His other arm wrapped around the back of the seat. The position pulled the bottom edge of his shirt up and revealed a ripple of flat abs and a dark trail of hair that disappeared into his jeans.
Dear God
. Moisture soaked the lining of her panties, and her thighs trembled.

He was delicious.

And the most lethal thing she’d ever seen.

For the past two years, she’d been working on putting her life back together after he’d torn it apart. She would never be that vulnerable again. Elle crossed her legs on her desire and cleared her throat.

“Okay.” She lifted her hands and indicated the closed interior of the car. “Is this private enough for what you have to say?” Silence. He watched her. Watched her with what resembled—hunger—in his eyes. Her stomach quivered under the intensity of his stare. “What!” She couldn’t help but shout. He was making her crazy.

“You can’t be here.” The words were a declaration—a command on his part. But the sound that followed them was something closer to a groan. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the window.

“Arran. Talk to me. You know something that you’re not telling me. What’s going on in this town?” She glanced over her shoulder at Wicked Ways. “This club.”

“Why don’t you answer my question?” He lifted his head and opened his eyes, the crazy ring of fire gone from around the irises. “I did ask first.” He tilted his head and leaned in. His right arm slid farther across the dashboard as his hand squeezed into a fist. “What are you doing here—alone—in a goth club, for Christ’s sake?” With his other hand, he ran his palm over his hair; the cross at his ear swaying from the movement.

Maybe she should just tell him. He apparently knew more about this place than she did, and he might know something about Alex. Or have at least seen her. “Fine.” She rubbed the spot between her eyes with her fingers. “I’m here looking for information about my sister. She’s missing.”

“And she was last seen here?” Arran’s eyes widened as he eased back in his seat.

Fear and nausea coiled in her stomach. She didn’t like the look on his face or the sound of that question. “Not exactly. One of her neighbors, a college kid, said he’d seen her here about three weeks ago. I thought it was odd. Alex always had her head on straight, and I couldn’t imagine this being a scene she was into. So I decided to check it out, ask around, and see if anyone recognized her photo.”

“What?” He shot forward in his seat. “You showed her picture around in there?” With a curse, he scrubbed a hand over his face and fell back onto his seat.

“Of course I did. What’s the problem?” The knot of anxiety, growing in her throat, threatened to choke her.

“The problem is…” He swiveled his head in her direction. “Your sister walked into a colony. They’re not just playing dress up in there, Gabrielle. The humans who aren’t minions inside those doors don’t have a clue what kind of evil they’re dancing with. And now you’ve brought attention to yourself and your sister.
If
something happened to her there, they now know someone’s looking for her.”

A cold chill wracked her body, and she reached for her throat. Shifting in her seat until she faced forward, she wrapped her arms around her chest. “Oh God…” Nightmarish images flashed across her mind’s eye, and she swallowed hard at the nausea threatening to escape. Alex beneath a mass of hungry vampires—DEADs—feasting on her until they were drunk from her blood, swaying on their knees beside her corpse. Her life essence dripping like a garnet waterfall from their chins.

No!
The denial echoed inside the walls of her skull. She squeezed her eyelids shut and shook her head. Alex was alive. She had to be, and Elle wasn’t about to give up until she found her.

“There’s more,” he said.

She opened her eyes, despite knowing she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “Tell me.”

“I learned last night that the colony running Wicked Ways…”

“Yeah.”

“It belongs to Markus and Marguerite.”

Chapter Three

“You have to feed.” Markus jammed his wrist once more in front of the woman with midnight hair who called herself Alexandria.

“Fuck you.” She jumped to her feet from the edge of the small cot and turned around, giving him her back. “I’d rather die.”

Why the hell he put up with her belligerence, he hadn’t quite figured out yet. When members of their colony had brought her in with the group of humans a few weeks ago, he could have easily allowed her, like the others, to become food for the DEADs. She’d fought like a tigress though, her long, blue-black hair wild with damp strands clinging to her face and around her wide, deep violet eyes. Not once did she cry or beg for mercy. Instead, she’d bitten, kicked, and clawed anyone who came near her.

Quite simply, she’d captivated him.

And it was the only thing that had saved her life. But that defiant mouth—she was going to push him too far, and then…

“I
can
make you feed.” Markus pressed his chest against her back. She stiffened. He leaned over and brushed a lock of hair away from her ear. “I don’t have to ask nicely,” he whispered. The deceptively delicate-looking hand at her side curled into a fist. He grinned.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with.” She uncurled her fist and went for his wrist. Markus jerked his arm away and stepped back. She spun, her dark hair swinging around her like a midnight fan. The tips of her fangs glistened beneath her lip, and her full breasts rose and fell with each rapid breath, driven by her hunger.

The sudden rush of lust nearly took him to his knees. He inhaled, slow and deep, through his nostrils, doing his best to hold his desire in check. His fangs throbbed in time with the blood that pulsed in his groin, making his balls ache.

Elongating the claws within his tight fist, Markus drove the tips into his palm. The sharp bite of tearing flesh helped to take the edge off his need. He’d long since learned, during his time with Marguerite, that there existed a very fine line between pleasure and pain. The need for one was easily substituted with the infliction of the other.

Markus needed the pain.

Because he had a bad feeling that one hard fuck against the wall with Alexandria wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his appetite for this untamed vixen. And that would be most unfortunate. In fact, they would both end up dead.

Marguerite didn’t like to share.

Unless, of course, it was her idea, and she got to join in on the fun.

“What game are you playing?” Alexandria’s shout yanked his attention back to the present struggle at hand.

Markus turned around and backed away. “No game, vixen,” he said in a lazy drawl. He swiveled on his heels, facing her with an easy smile, then eased onto the chair behind him and crossed his legs. The fine interwoven silk of his Armani slacks shone in the overhead lights of the room. He ran his palm over the deep blue fabric. Life with Marguerite did have its perks.

He cocked his head to the side and raised a brow. Alexandria looked like she could claw his eyes out. And it was fucking sexy as hell. “I just thought you needed to show a little more appreciation.”

“What?” Her body tightened, and her head jerked back. She paced the small confines of her room. “Appreciation! That’s what you want from me?” She stopped mere inches from his chair. “For having my life stolen from me? For holding me prisoner?” She spread her arms wide. “This is what you want me to thank you for?”

He shot from his chair, and into her face. She jumped back, but Markus couldn’t stop. He kept going until he had her trapped between his body and the wall. He opened his mouth on a hiss. His fangs were hot and smooth as they slid against the underside of his upper lip. A sight he was sure displayed a nice visual of his anger.

He planted his palms beside her head with a satisfying
thump
. She lifted her eyes to his. They were wide, but she didn’t cower, even though she had to know he could kill her with a single blow. A low growl resonated from his chest as they locked stares. “Yes, vixen. This is exactly what I want you to thank me for. If not for me, you would be a rotting corpse right now. I
gave
you your life.”

Long, sooty lashes lowered over violet eyes, and she scowled. “If I’m so distasteful,” he said, “I would be more than happy to send someone else in to feed you.” Her eyelids lifted in surprise. “But he may not have the tolerance or restraint that I have, and you’d get more for your foul attitude than a full belly.” Markus grasped her chin and jerked her face to his. “He might fuck that pretty mouth of yours before he filled it with his blood.” He stroked her bottom lip with his thumb. “Then while you’re attempting to choke the shit down, he might turn you over and drive his cock into your ass, just for the hell of it.” A shudder ran through her, vibrating through his wrist. He’d made his point.

Releasing her chin, he reached up and smoothed the hair away from her face. “You see—I’m not so bad after all.” She didn’t answer. But he didn’t expect her to. She had too much pride. For her to survive here, she was going to have to bend, or he’d have to resort to other means to contain her. If she ever responded to Marguerite the way she defied him… Marguerite would kill her. Or worse.

“Come.” He stepped away and headed back to his chair. After taking a seat, he motioned for her to join him at his side. She hesitated for only a second before moving. Good. Progress. Once there, she stood in silence beside his chair. He glanced up. She stared at the wall behind his head, chin held high. “Kneel.” Her gaze snapped to his. “I said, kneel.” His voice dipped into a deep rumble. Air soughed in and out of her chest. “If you wish for
me
to feed you, kneel.”

Slowly, she sank to her knees, her gaze never wavering from his. He tightened the grip on his clawed fist, sinking the talons as deep as they would settle into his flesh. Nothing had ever been as erotic as the sight of her dropping to her knees at his feet. He wanted to spread his thighs and pull her body between them. Sink his hands into her hair and watch as she lowered her mouth around the aching head of his cock.

Fuck, yeah.

Instead, he extended his arm and offered her his wrist.

Soft fingers wrapped around his hand, and she pulled his wrist closer. He couldn’t look away. Full, moist lips drew back, revealing two long snow-white fangs, just before she drove them into his vein. “Shit.” His head bumped the wall behind him, and no way in hell could he hold back the groan that followed.