Blazing Bedtime Stories (5 page)

The change in his eye color. The fangs. The damned hunger.

Even now, it waged a tug-o-war inside of him, demanding more than the sex.

His gaze hooked on the throb of her pulse and it was all he could do not to taste her.

Even crazier were the damned feelings churning inside him.

As much as he wanted to bite Shay, he wanted to hold her close. To tell her how beautiful she was. To kill any and every man who’d ever hurt her. To never let her go.

The vampire bite.

He knew that was to blame for the wild changes he was going through—emotionally and physically—and he fully intended to prove it. As soon as Shay dozed off, he was heading into town to talk to a certain pair of vampires.

In the meantime, he was going to do his damndest to keep from sinking his fangs or his cock into the woman falling fast asleep in his arms.

“Y
OU LOOK TERRIBLE
,”
Viviana Darland told him the minute he walked into the business office of Skull Creek Choppers later that night.

The custom motorcycle shop was owned by the town’s three resident male vampires—Garret Sawyer, Jake McCann and Dillon Cash. Garret handled the actual build. Jake took care of the design. And Dillon dealt with the high-tech computer software blazing on the various computer screens throughout the monstrous fabrication shop.

“I feel terrible,” Matt said as he sank into one of the chairs. Viviana signaled Garret through the wall-to-wall window that separated the office from the actual production area. A few seconds later, he walked through the door. He gave Viv a long, lingering kiss before turning his attention to Matt.

“What’s up, guy?”

Matt ran a hand over his face and tried to ignore the scent of Shay on his hands and his skin. In his head. “Something’s happening to me.” When Garret arched an eyebrow, he added, “Something other than the usual werewolf stuff.”

“We saw the pic,” Viv winked. “Nice tush.”

“I’m not talking about the streaking.” He shook his head. “Well, yes I am.” He leveled a stare at her. “The full moon triggers everything for me. I know it. I can anticipate it. But this happened during a quarter moon. One minute I’m out at my place and the next I’m standing in the middle of town square. I was hairy and horny. That vampire bite did something to me.” He pushed to his feet and started to pace in the small area. “I’m having these urges.” He shook his head. “I’m horny as hell. And I’m hungry.” His gaze locked with Garret’s. “For more than a thick, juicy steak.” His gaze shifted to Viv’s. “Do you think I’m turning into a vampire?”

“You can’t be,” Viv told him. “To fully turn, you have to drink the blood of a vampire while you’re dying. You breathe your last breath, your humanity slips away and then the vamp blood kicks in and you open your eyes to a new life—the afterlife.” She shook her head. “A nonfatal bite isn’t enough.”

“For the average human,” Garret spoke then. “But Matt isn’t anywhere close, babe. His DNA is different. Which means—” his gaze zeroed in on Matt “—anything is possible.”

“I suppose.” Viv eyed him. “What did you do today?”

Matt shrugged. “I spent the afternoon clearing the area around the cabin.”

“Outside, right?”

“Yeah.”

Viv exchanged glances with Garret. “Vampires can’t tolerate the sunlight.”

“
We
can’t tolerate the sunlight,” Garret said, slipping an arm around her. “Matt’s something different.” His gaze collided with Matt’s. “You’re still a werewolf, right?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I did grow the hair, which is standard operating procedure for werewolves. But I didn’t actually morph into a wolf, which is what usually happens once a month. First the hair, then the change. But only during the full moon. When I was younger, I used to sprout hair every now and then, but that’s because my hormones were raging. I never sprout hair now unless I’m supposed to.”

“Vampires don’t grow hair,” Viv pointed out.

“But we do crave sex,” Garret countered before shifting his attention back to Matt. “It’s part of what we are. We can sate the bloodlust with sexual energy. It helps us go longer so that we don’t have to feed off the red stuff as often. Let me guess, you tried jacking off and it didn’t work.”

Matt shook his head. “It made me want it more.” He remembered climbing from the bed after Shay had fallen asleep. He’d taken one look at her and he’d been hard all over again. Desperate. Hungry. “Shit,” he muttered, sinking down on the edge of the couch. “Shit, shit,
shit
.” He shook his head. “So you really think I’m turning into a vampire?” he asked Garret.

“I think that the vamp blood mingling with yours sparked some
sort of transition. How far it will go, I don’t know. Will you lose the werewolf and become a full-fledged vampire? That remains to be seen.”

“So what do I do?”

“You feed,” Viv told him. She walked over to a nearby mini-fridge and pulled out a plastic bag of blood. A few seconds later, she’d poured the contents into a wine glass and handed it to him. “The more you feed the beast, the more in control you’ll feel.”

“Where did you get this?”

“Garret’s got connections at a blood bank in Austin. We bag it as much as we can. The rest we take from each other.”

“Only each other,” Garret added.

“You can do that?” His gaze went from one vampire to the other.

Viv smiled at her significant other. “It’s worked so far. But you’ll need to supplement with sex.”

“Lots of sex,” Garret added, sliding an arm around Viv. “But no sex and blood at the same time. It forges an unbreakable bond that can be more trouble than it’s worth.”

“If it’s with the wrong person,” Viv added. “But if it’s the right person…” She let her sentence trail off as she smiled at Garret.

He pulled her even closer. “If it’s the right person, you’re one lucky sonofabitch.” He lifted his gaze to Matt. “Stick with variety for now while you’re figuring things out. Maybe check out a few of the bars out on the interstate. There’s plenty of women there who can help you until you get a handle on this.”

“And we’ll help, too.” Viv pulled away from Garret to retrieve another bag from the fridge. “You can have dinner with us so you don’t have to worry about draining anyone.”

“I would never do that.”

“You’d be surprised what you’re capable of doing when the hunger gets to you.”

He thought of Shay and her voluptuous body. Her pulse echoed in his head and he saw her creamy white throat, her lifeblood pumping just below the surface of her pale, translucent skin. He’d wanted so badly to sink his fangs into her, to feel her heat filling his mouth the way her silky wet warmth had milked his body. His groin tightened, hunger sliced through him and he reached for the glass.

He downed a long gulp. The liquid was salty and sweet at the same
time, and his taste buds came alive. Several more gulps and he finished off the glass. Still, it wasn’t enough to sate the beast that now lived and breathed inside of him. Nor was it enough to kill the image of Shay spread out on his bed, waiting for him. So warm and sweet and—

“Can I have another?” he blurted, cutting off the dangerous train of thought.

“Another glass?”

“Another bag.” He needed all the sustenance he could get before he headed back to the cabin to deal with Shay Briggs.

Deal
as in finishing up their bargain by sharing a few of the crazy hair growth treatments he’d learned over the years. She’d kept her end of the agreement, and now he had to keep his.

No way was he going to head back home, crawl into bed with her, and have sex with her all over again. Or drink from her. Or both. Christ, he had enough problems. He didn’t need to be mentally linked to a woman he hardly knew. Even if there was something about her that drew him.

Her scent. Her feel. Her.

“You’ll know it.”

He fought the truth and focused on Garret while Viv emptied a bag into his now empty glass. “How often will I have to feed?”

“You’re new at this, so I’d say every few days. Older vampires can go longer.”

“So this will cut the craving for a little while?” He held up the glass she handed him.

“Not by itself. But if you have sex, you should be good for a few days at least.”

“What if I already had sex?”

Garret winked. “Then you’re good to go for at least forty-eight hours.”

Long enough for Matt to fulfill his end of the bargain with Shay—without falling into bed with her again. Then he would call it quits. She would go back to her life and he would go back to looking for his mate, and all would be right with the world.

If only the notion didn’t depress him even more than the possibility that he was turning into a full-fledged vampire.

H
E WAS GONE
.

Shay stared at the empty bed and tried to stifle her disappointment.
Gone
was a good thing. Dawn had already crept over the horizon and pushed its way inside the bedroom. The shadows hovered in the corners, too far away to afford her any decent cover once she threw back the sheets and sprinted for the bathroom.

She strained her ears for some evidence that Matt Keller hadn’t jumped ship like every other man in her life. The familiar sounds whispered through her head. The hum of the air conditioner. The chirp of birds. The buzz of crickets.

There was nothing else. No rush of water in the bathroom. No early morning news coming from the living room TV. No
swish
of newspapers. No
glug
of orange juice.

The rat bastard.

Not because she’d fallen for him or anything ridiculous like that. Sure, he was a bad boy and the sex had been phenomenal. But she hardly knew him. No, she felt like crying because he’d bailed
before
sharing his hair secrets.

She blinked away the burning in her eyes and steeled herself. She would hunt him down if she had to. No way was she going home empty-handed.

She kicked the sheets to her ankles and climbed from the bed. She’d just leaned over to scoop up her undies when she felt the whisper of awareness up her spine. Her fingers brushed lace just as Matt’s sexy voice echoed in her ears.

“And here I thought the view from the porch was pretty incredible.”

Hope rushed through her, followed by a burst of
uh, oh
. She made a mad grab for the sheet, tucking it up under her arms as she whirled. The moment her gaze collided with his, her stomach hollowed out and her heart seemed to pause.

There was just something about the way he looked at her—as if he
wanted
to look—that made her want to let go of the sheet and her inhibitions.

Never again.

She summoned her irritation and nailed him with a glare. “You should try knocking next time.”

“It’s my bedroom, sugar.” His green eyes sparkled.

“Last I heard, possession was nine-tenths of the law.”

She meant to piss him off, but the comment drew a flash of admiration and a grin. “Good comeback.”

“I do my best work when I’m half-naked.”

His gaze dropped to the sheet and his grin faded into an almost wistful expression. “Get dressed. I’ll be in the kitchen.” And then he turned and walked away.

Once he was out of sight, she inched forward and shut the bedroom door. Throwing the lock on the knob, she snatched up her clothes and ditched the sheet. His scent clung to her T-shirt as she slid it over her head and her thighs trembled. She had half a mind to toss the clothes aside and meet him in the kitchen wearing nothing but a smile.

No,
her conscience reminded her.
No more chances. No more heartache. No more getting wild and crazy with the wrong men
.

She finished dressing, then unlocked the door and went out. She found Matt standing near the counter, an open carton of eggs next to him. Bacon sizzled in a nearby frying pan and the smell of coffee curled through the air.

“Have a seat.”

Warmth curled around her and filled the small space as she folded herself into a nearby chair.

“I like my eggs over-easy,” she blurted, eager to distract herself from the crazy thoughts dancing in her head.

Like how sexy he looked with a frying pan in his hands and how she wouldn’t mind seeing him like this each and every morning.

He grinned at her as strong, tanned fingers closed around one of the delicate white eggs. “You’re not eating them, sugar.” He added a few teaspoons of flour to the mixture and whipped it into a thick paste. “You’re wearing them.” He picked up the bowl and stepped toward her.

“Excuse me?”

“The hair shaft is made up of protein,” he told her matter-of-factly. “An egg is protein which feeds the follicle and promotes hair growth.” He set the bowl on the table in front of her. “You spread the paste over your head, wrap it in a warm towel and leave it on for thirty minutes.”

“How many times do you have to do it?”

“Two to three times a week for six weeks is usually enough to see some pretty incredible results. But you’ll see minimal results in as little as a few treatments.”

“This is the secret?” She took a whiff of the egg paste and her nose wrinkled.

“Listen, I know you’re after one ground-breaking cause, but I don’t think it’s any one thing. I do lots of things that promote hair growth,” he said as he came around her, setting the bowl in front of her.

She became acutely aware of his strong, powerful body directly behind her and her nipples tightened.

“Such as?” she managed to say, her lips trembling around the words.

“Sit-ups on a bar.”

“And this helps how?”

“Hanging upside down sends a rush of blood to the brain. Blood stimulates growth.” He swept her hair off her shoulders and every nerve in her body went on instant alert. “Eucalyptus leaves and mint oil work, too. Mix it. Warm it. Rub it on your scalp and wait fifteen minutes.” He scooped some of the paste into his hand.

At the first touch of his fingertips on her scalp, goose bumps chased up and down her arms. He smoothed the mixture onto her hair and worked the stuff into her strands with a steady, kneading massage.

Her nipples tingled and her mouth went dry. It was all she could do not to melt right there at his fingertips.

“Not only does the protein recharge each strand,” he murmured after several minutes, “but the massage relaxes you at the same time.”

Yeah, right. Her skin tingled. Her nipples quivered. Her clitoris throbbed.

“Your hair’s really soft.” His deep voice rumbled in her ear. His fingers brushed her neck and shivers chased up and down her spine.

“Thanks.” She wasn’t sure how she managed the one word, except that she wanted—no, needed—to say something. Anything to break the seductive spell gripping her senses.

“There,” he finally announced after a few more strokes. “Let me get a warm towel out of the dryer and we’ll wrap it up.” He disappeared and Shay did her best not to follow him.

She wanted so much to hop up on the dryer and toss her legs around his waist. Instead, she hopped up from the chair and busied herself taking the bacon from the frying pan and setting it on a nearby plate lined with a paper towel. “What do we do with this? Crush it into another paste?”

“This,” he said, coming up next to her and snagging a piece. “We eat.” He popped the bacon into his mouth and started to chew.

“Oh.” Her cheeks fired, more from his nearness than embarrassment. “I thought it was part of the hair growth regime.”

“Actually, it is. Diet plays a huge role in hair growth. Bacon contains iron and protein, both of which make for healthy hair. I eat a lot of the stuff, so I’m sure it has something to do with what happened.”

“I don’t do bacon.” A wave of self-consciousness rolled through her. “Actually, I do do bacon. That’s the problem. It goes straight to my hips.”

“Your hips look just fine to me,” he said. Then he frowned as if none too pleased with the fact that he’d just made the statement.

Because the initial infatuation was now over. Where he couldn’t think beyond the sex, now he was noticing the details. The imperfections.

“How long does this stay on for?” she blurted, eager to distract herself from a sudden rush of disappointment.

“Thirty minutes,” he told her as she rummaged in her purse for a pad and pen.

“Got it.” She scribbled the information along with a step-by-step recipe for the egg paste.

She wasn’t disappointed. She was relieved. She wasn’t any more interested in him than he was in her. She didn’t want him to rip her clothes off and make love to her again any more than she wanted to rip her clothes off and make love to him.

Really.

“Eucalyptus and what?” she asked as he dropped into a chair opposite her.

“Mint oil. You can get it at any health food store.”

“Not in Skull Creek. The closest we get to health food is a jar of Flintstones Chewables over at the Piggly Wiggly. The drawback of living in a small town.”

“Skull Creek is nothing compared to Jamison.”

She wasn’t going to ask. The less she knew about him, the better. “Is that where you’re from?” she heard herself say anyway.

“I was born and raised in Seattle, but I’ve spent the past ten years in Jamison. It’s a small town in upstate Washington.”

“Do they have a McDonalds?”

“If you’re talking old man McDonald who owned the local pharmacy, then yes, we had one. If you’re talking fries and Big Macs, I’m afraid not.”

Shay let loose a whistle. “Even Skull Creek has a McDonalds. I mean, it’s not actually in town. It’s fifteen miles out on the interstate, but still. So what did you do in the desperately small town of Jamison?” Not that she was interested. But the more he talked, the less she thought about him doing other, sexier things with his sensuous mouth.

“I was a private detective at first. Most of my cases came from Seattle, but I lived in Jamison because that’s where I grew up. I eventually ran for sheriff after I inherited my folks’ place. They passed away three years ago.”

She barely resisted the urge to rest her hand over his and chase the suddenly bleak look from his eyes. She balled her fingers and settled for “What happened?”

He shrugged. “They were flying a small Cessna, on their way back from Niagara Falls when their plane hit a tree. They crashed and burned in a matter of minutes.”

“I lost my dad in a trucking accident,” she heard herself say. “I was only two, so I don’t really remember him.”

“What about your mom?”

“Alive and well and happily married to an accountant named Fred. Finally.” When he arched an eyebrow, she added, “Fred’s a good guy, but she hasn’t always been so lucky. She has a bad habit of falling for the wrong men.”

“How many men?”

“Fred is number five. But that’s not the Briggs record. My grandma was married six times. She’s widowed now and lives in a retirement home in Austin. The last time I talked to her, she was working on wrong man number seven. A retired air force pilot who’s been married almost as many times as she has.”

“What about you? Are you carrying on the family tradition?”

“I’ve never been married, if that’s what you’re asking. But I’ve gone cold turkey as far as the wrong men are concerned. I want more than a little bump and grind. I want bacon and eggs.” When he grinned, she added, “Eggs that you can actually eat. Not that there’s anything wrong with bumping and grinding. I’m sure you live your life looking for the next B & G, but I want more. I’m through with players. I want a nice guy. The right guy, you know?”

Boy, did he ever. Matt had spent the past three years searching for the right woman. For his woman. His mate.

Someone he could have hot, wild sex with
and
talk to.

The way he was talking with Shay Briggs right now.

He nixed the last thought. He wasn’t
talking
to Shay. It wasn’t real talk, the deep, meaningful kind shared between two people who were friends, as well as lovers. He and Shay were nowhere near that close. He hardly knew her and she hardly knew him. Even more, she never would.

“That probably sounds lame to a guy like you.”

“A guy like me?”

“A bad boy. A player. You know, the kind of man who is only interested sex.”

“What makes you think I’m only interested in sex?”

“Well, aren’t you?”

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about settling down myself.” He wasn’t sure why, but her perception of him bothered him and he had the sudden urge to prove her wrong.

She gave him a skeptical glance. “Is that so?”

“What? A bad boy can’t settle down?”

“Bad boys never settle down.”

“How do you know?”

“Eye-witness account. My mother was married four times before Fred and they were all bad boys.”

“Maybe it wasn’t the men. Maybe it was your mom.”

“And maybe you should mind your own business.”

Because he was right. Matt read that truth in her eyes. Shay had wondered the very same thing more than once, but then she’d quickly dismissed the notion. She was the spitting image of her mother. To consider that her mom might have commitment issues meant that she might have her own, as well.

She didn’t. She believed in love. He didn’t just see that truth, he felt it. In the hope bubbling inside her. The determination to steer clear of him. Because she didn’t want another night of sex.

She wanted the perfect man.

Just as much as he wanted the perfect woman.

A woman who smelled like peach pie.

“How long am I supposed to wear this?” her voice slid into his ears and distracted him from the dangerous thought.

He glanced at his watch. “Time’s just about up anyway. Let’s get you rinsed off. Then I’ll show you how to do a hanging sit-up.”

She grinned. “Or maybe I’ll show you.” When he looked surprised, she added, “You’re talking to a woman who owns an ab buster, a thigh master, a glute toner
and
a biceps builder. There isn’t a work-out device I haven’t tried.”

“That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Why you have such a great body.” He didn’t mean to say it, but he couldn’t help himself.

“You obviously didn’t see a thing last night.”

“Says you.”

She gave him a sharp look and he grinned.

“You’re beautiful, Shay.”

The words whispered through Shay’s head, feeding her fragile ego, making her think that peeling away her clothes right here, right now, in the bright light of day, wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

But she was through clinging to the here and now. She wanted a future. A nice guy.

Matt Keller with his wicked green eyes and his sinful smile looked anything but nice. Fierce? Yes. Dangerous? Amen. Sexy-as-hell? Straight up.