Assassins Bite (6 page)

Then his thumb landed on my clit and he began flicking while he thrust fingers, and I moaned and my muscles melted, scary thoughts yielding to lust.

He rubbed and kissed and thrust until I felt the final tightening, the winching toward the top of the roller coaster, the point when all the pumps were primed and climax was inevitable.

We weren't on the path of arousal anymore. Orgasm was coming.

Naturally that was when the pounding started at the door. “Sunny?” It was my brother Dirk.

“Don't pay any attention to him,” Blackthorne murmured. “Feel my fingers inside you. Claiming you.”

“I do,” I panted.

“Sunny, are you in there?” Dirk yodeled.

“No!” I yelled back.

“You're almost there.” Blackthorne kissed me and savagely thumbed my clit. My fingers bit into his shoulders, denting the hardest muscles in the world. I gave myself over to his ministration…

“Sunny!” The door banged. “I have a message.”

“Later, Dirk. Go away!”

“Grab my tongue.” Blackthorne drove his tongue into my mouth on a vicious thrust.

I whimpered. My sex felt like fireworks about to burst. “What?”

“My tongue.” He thrust it again, big and hot, into my mouth.

More out of self-preservation, I grabbed it with my lips. Felt him pull the rough wet heat of it back, revving the sensitive skin of my lips. I wondered if that was what his cock would feel like, big and hot and hard, thrusting into me, driving deep.

I came in a shock wave radiating from my clit. Big, round pleasure rolled through me from under his thumb, expanding outward in rising circles. Release swamped me and I cried out softly into the mouth of the man who'd given it to me.

It swept away all tension, all pain. Left only a sparkling of bright happiness.

When I opened my eyes, Blackthorne stood there, gaze soft on me. “Feel better now?”

I could only nod.

He glanced at the door, shaking from Dirk's hammering. “Good. I'd better go.”

Chapter Six

Blackthorne reached for the counter and nabbed his tee, rolling it on almost as fast as he'd zipped it off. He'd left me on the ledge and I couldn't physically stop him.

“Wait. Don't go.” I eyed the distance, slid off, misjudged the pliability of my leg muscles and nearly landed in a heap on the tile floor.

He caught and steadied me. “I have to. You're a professional and this is your place of employment. We don't want to give the wrong impression.” He had my bra in hand and he slipped it over my arms, reached behind me and hooked it, then adjusted it so it perfectly cupped my breasts.

Wow. He wasn't like most men, just tearing off clothes. He cleaned up after himself. Maybe he was even one of the rare males who moved you out of the wet spot after.

I could get used to that kind of thoughtfulness all too easily.

Speaking of thoughtfulness… “You can't go. You didn't get…” I waved at his zipper. A very impressive bulge raised it. “Your return gift.”

There was a brightening of his black eyes. “I got to see your face as you climaxed. That was the most beautiful gift I've ever received. Step.” He'd set my pants on the floor. As I set my shod feet into the holes he said, “I must go, and you must let in your brother and colleague.”

On cue, Dirk said, “Sunny, open up. I have a message from Captain Titus.”

I looked down at Blackthorne's dark head. “Don't you have just a minute?”

“He's calling attention to your being locked in here.” Blackthorne pulled up my pants, zipped, buttoned and belted. “Here's your shirt and jacket. Once you're together, open the door.”

“How will you get out?” I glanced at the small window. I might have shimmied through it but no way Blackthorne's frame—a couple hundred pounds of bone and muscle if I judged him right—would fit. “Dirk will see you. I thought you didn't want him to get the wrong impression.”

“Watch.”

As I stared, he stepped back behind the last stall and faded into the shadows. I blinked. Peered harder. I could just make out his outline…maybe. I thought that was him.

Fingers wiggled in a “hi”. I smiled.

“Sunny!” More pounding from the door.

“Coming, Dirk.” I threw on what was left of my blouse, pausing before putting on the jacket to stare with amazement at my perfectly smooth chest where the skin had been red and scratched and bleeding. Then I shook my head, buttoned brass and went to let Dirk in. I twisted off the thumb lock and opened the door.

He pounded air a couple times before he saw me. His face brightened. “There you are.”

“Here I am. And here we go.” I took him by the arm, turned him and marched him out the door. A dark shadow filtered through behind me and disappeared. I shook my head. “What was so important that you had to interrupt me in the bathroom?”

“Captain Titus—”

“Wants to meet with me at midnight, I know. Elena told me.”

“No! He's here early—and he wants to meet with you
now
.”

Aiden Blackthorne hadn't planned to invade the police department, trash a door and ravish Sunny. Earlier that evening when he'd begun his nightly three-hour routine of strength, speed and weapons training followed by meditation at Napoleon's Gym, he'd had no thoughts in mind of making Sunny orgasm. Fantasies, yes. But he hadn't actually planned it.

Ten thirty p.m. he stepped from the shower, dressed and glided off into the night. He wanted to put in some time at the truck terminal, to reinforce his cover but also because the truckers needed his help. Besides, while he'd eventually have to talk to his friend Ric about Eloise, he didn't know what he'd say. The mindless physical activity of loading and unloading freight would give him time to think.

As he moved, he checked his surroundings and tested the air, as was his habit. An acrid scent/taste punched his awareness.

Blood.

Though clanless, Aiden was, by nature, a protector. He spun toward the scent and opened his senses.

Human blood, but not the usual mix. Pungent as lemon juice, this blood was tinged with the adrenaline and other chemicals that meant a human in distress. Half a mile east south east.

It was Sunny. She was hurt.

He didn't think, just acted. He blew into mist and flung himself in the direction of the scent/taste.

Mist was fast, but only lasted seconds before the body's natural shape reasserted itself. He snapped back within two blocks. He misted again, snapping back at the banks of the Meiers River. He ran through the running water, ignoring the buzz rattling his bones. On the other side, her distress was obvious with his first breath.

She was hurt, and why the hell wasn't he at her side yet? South one block. He misted again, too soon to hold well, and snapped whole when he slammed into the solid strength of a door. Dazed, he tried the knob.

Locked. She was in the locked room. His hands flattened against the door and he tried to mist yet again, to stream underneath.

But misting three times plus battling water had taken its toll. He stayed distressingly solid.

Rage filled him at his inability to get to her, rash and uncontrollable. He broke down the thing between them.

She looked up. She was fine.

Relief coursed through him. He stood there and let it wash over him.

Two women stared at him, Sunny and Elena Strongwell. He became aware of how strange it looked to have him break in like that, and it dawned on him just how rash and questionable all of his behavior was around Sunny. He didn't understand any of it so he passed it off with a casual remark. That was that. Protector instinct satisfied.

Despite knowing how oddly he was behaving, after Strongwell ordered him out, he stayed nearby. Near Sunny. He needed to with a fierce desire that went beyond rationality.

He tucked himself into a shadowed corner of the police station and brooded, trying to understand this pull to be with the small, clunky cop. Generally he couldn't get far enough away from anyone in authority.

Then Sunny came into the hallway, her gait stiff, pained, and all thoughts dropped from his head except one—relieve her suffering.

He followed her to the restroom to heal her with his saliva in the way of his kind. He touched his tongue to her skin, and…and…

He
really
didn't understand his need to pleasure her. His overwhelming compulsion to kiss her and touch her and feel her shatter under his hand.

Didn't stop him from doing it. From reveling in it.

After, his own gait was stiff. Work would take care of that. He hobbled toward the Dawn barn.

The cool night air eased him. He shook his head. He understood sex, but his encounter with Sunny was less like sex and more like…breathing. Absolutely necessary.

As if she was his mate.

He stopped. Everything, feet, breathing, even heart, on the cusp of forever…

No.
Couldn't be. Because if his friend Ric was any indication, a vampire male mating a human female led to rapid impregnation. Children.

He would
not
be a father.

He crossed the street, fast, heedless of direction, his gliding feet flashing so swiftly that when they hit the edge of the curb they actually caused a spark. Pain lashed through his ankles.

Gritting his teeth, he slowed down. Mate. Father. Was it so impossible? He tried imagining Sunny pregnant with his child, the baby born so tiny and perfect, a boy or girl to read to and play peek-a-boo with and love…

Not for him. He'd be an awful father. It wasn't like he had a lot of positive role models.

Yet those few moments with Sunny teased him, with hazy memories of a different life, a life of sunshine and love. Stroking her flesh was like caressing soft tassels of ripe summer grain; her scent was like fresh rain. He closed his eyes and savored the memory of her in his arms. She wasn't his mate, and yet there was this insistent tug to be with her. To embrace her and rub against her and sink his fangs into the sweet warm pulse in her neck…

He stumbled. His eyes flew open. He was gliding up the stairs of the police station.

What the fuck? He ought to be headed for DTL. Judging by the night sky, it was well after eleven. While many employers would be upset if he came in late, the folks at Dawn would be okay with it. They knew he was casual labor. Most of their drivers were; most of them were vampires too.

Yet instead of going to work, he sank slowly to the top step and cupped his head in both hands. He was so fucked.

He wondered briefly if he would have understood his feelings any better if he were aligned with the ancient vampire in Iowa. Kai Elias was purported to have wisdom like no other, although he shared it only sparingly.

Aiden raised his head from his hands. He didn't trust authorities and Elias, as leader of the Iowa Alliance, was authority with a capital A. Never again would Aiden put himself in the hands of another soul—outside of Ric who had proved himself in the crucible of Nosferatu's hell.

And, at one time, Eloise.

But that answered his question about Sunny, didn't it? His need for her…his
desire
for her, was just great sex. It had to be.

I scuttled double-quick behind Dirk as my brother led me to the office Elena and I had used after Blackthorne broke the infirmary door.

It wasn't empty this time. Behind the tombstone nameplate sat a chunky forty-something of a man, his head both pumpkin round and pumpkin orange, courtesy of knockoff hair-in-a-can spray.

Still, he was my superior officer. I snapped a salute. “Officer Sun-Hee Ruffles, reporting for duty, Captain Tight—” I almost pronounced it Tight-Ass. Blame my family, Uncle John this time. Talking about the captain, he'd call him that. Then he'd wink and say, “Though he prefers Tit-Us. Not much better, if you ask me.”

A last minute heroic twist of my tongue turned it into “Tite-us”. To cover, I smiled inanely, pretending I wasn't being intentionally insulting, only a Ruffles.

Titus scowled. “About damned time. What were you doing so long in the bathroom, putting on your damned makeup?” Uncle John also said Tight-Ass's voice went higher when he got stressed. The captain wasn't quite soprano but I was in trouble.

“Sir, I can explain.” I couldn't, actually, but I would certainly try.

“No excuses.” Tight-Ass slapped the desk. “I didn't want to hire you. My budget isn't a slush fund! But O'Rourkes carry some damned pull.” He rubbed his arm through his coat sleeve.

Uncle John said Tight-Ass had been a bully as a kid. He'd shoved around Elena's father but one day Patrick O'Rourke shoved back—and broke Tight-Ass's arm. Apparently the memory still chafed.

“Yes sir. No excuses.”

He stopped jacking off his sleeve to stab a finger at me. “Let's get one thing straight. I do not tolerate goofing off.” He said “goofing off” like it was worse than murder. “No one on my team goofs off.”

“No sir.”

“If I catch you, you will be disciplined. Harshly. Removal of gun, badge, etcetera, is the least of your punishments. Do you understand, Officer Ruffles?”

“Yes sir!” I saluted so smartly I managed to put a dent in my forehead. I suddenly understood my brother better.

Tight-Ass rubbed his sleeve absently. “O'Rourke—I mean, Strongwell brought you in as a beat cop. But I have another job for you. Sub-rosette, as is were.”

“Sub rosa, yes sir. I know about keeping an eye on—the subject.” I winked.

“You do?” He harrumphed. “Of course you do. And why shouldn't you? She's been acting strangely.”

“
She
, sir? I mean, yes sir. She.”

But he was muttering to himself, cranking his fist along his forearm. “I understand her keeping an eye on Nieman's new owner—that woman and her hotpants lederhosen creep me out—but why is she so interested in Redfox Village? And what has she got going in some tiny burg in northern Wisconsin? She's made fifteen calls there last week alone.”

“Uh…Detective Strongwell, sir?”

His eyes focused on me and he stopped cranking. “Well of course Strongwell! Who else would I mean but Strongwell? Watch her, Ruffles. And keep your nose clean. No more goofing off, got it?”

“I wasn't—”

“No back chat!” He trilled at me like a stressed piccolo. “You're dismissed.”

Aiden Blackthorne, having firmly decided that his interest in Sunny was just sexual, rose from the steps of the police station. He generally didn't lie to himself but if he stopped to figure this out, he had a feeling he'd be locked in thought for a while.

As he walked, he remembered something that bothered him. Sunny's memory hadn't been wiped, dangerous. Civilized vampires did not wage war on innocent humans, an unspoken agreement enforced by blood. If Sunny knew, she was vulnerable.

Damn it, Elena's master vampire husband hadn't done his job. Aiden snapped out his phone and punched redial.

“Strongwell.” The voice was female.

“Why didn't Bo erase Sunny?”

“He did. He phoned her last night and used his best v-guy voice. I was as surprised as you that she still remembered everything.”

“Damn. You'll have to have Elias talk to her.” The leader of the Iowa Alliance was so powerful he could erase even immune humans' memories.

“Could. But every time we do, he manages to squeeze a few favors out of us in return. I'm already up to my ass in alligators, like Nosferatu's little forays into our territory—I kinda wish you hadn't given up assassinating, because if anyone needs eliminating, it's Nosy—which reminds me.” There was a pause, and he could practically hear the next question coming. “Whatcha doin' in Nosy's backyard?”

“I can't talk about it.”

She sighed. “Can you at least tell me how long it'll take?”

“I plan to be done and on my way soon.”

“Oh.”