Dark Xanadu (17 page)

He slowly shook his head. “No, Angela. They’ll come looking for me there. And what do you think they’ll do if they don’t find me?”

Angela felt the blood leave her face. “I don’t suppose they’d turn around and try another time?”

“No.” His voice was grim. “I don’t suppose they would. A room full of people actively looking for a stranger to go home with…they’d have no trouble charming victims. And they’d want to make sure I knew what they’d done, so I suspect they’d leave a messy memento. I need to be there. This needs to end, one way or the other.”

“Can you cancel the contract with the swingers, get the place empty?”

“Even if I tried, some would still show up, and they’d still have an invitation that was valid in their minds, so they’d still be able to invite Peter and Mario in. There would still be victims available. The best, safest chance these people have is to arrive in large numbers, and maybe Mario will think it’s too many. He can’t charm them all. If we’re very lucky, their presence will buy us a little bit of time—time for us to contact Morgan. And if—if he’s not in league with them, because it’s a pretty large coincidence you ended up involved in two different groups of vampires at the same time, although I’m sure it happens—then maybe he contacts the local vampires right away and they have a night to look for Mario and Peter. If they want to get involved at all.”

“Better than nothing, huh?”

“Yep. Better than nothing.”

“Neither Stacy or Monica is going to be up early on a Saturday.”

He nodded. “As long as we place that call before dusk.”

They sat there in silence. She didn’t know what Kent was thinking, and it bothered her. She wanted more of him, she suspected, than he wanted to give. But she’d never know unless she asked.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Kent?” she asked.

He blinked. “No. I was…well, before all this happened, I was sort of thinking you might fit the part. If I live—and I’ll try my best—I’ll come knocking. Promise.”

She got up from the chair and sat down next to him, putting her hand on her thigh. “It doesn’t work that way, Kent. When you know that you’ll come knocking, and I know that I’d answer, I think we’re already there.” She knew she was going to be with him come the night, although she knew he’d argue and try to send her away. She had to see this through, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to be sitting alone someplace wondering if he was alive or dead. She couldn’t take another night like that.

He put his hand on top her hand. “Angela, you need to stay out of this. They only wanted you because of me.”

“Maybe. But now they want me because I know who they are. If they kill you, they’ll come after me next.”

“They wouldn’t have to kill you. They could erase your memory.”

“Would they leave it at that, Kent? Really?”

He grabbed her hand tightly. “Okay. You’re right.” He turned to face her. “You’ve become very important to me in a very short time, and I want to protect you.”

Angela smiled. “You’ve already rescued me from being tied up in a building ready to explode, Kent. You can’t protect me from everything. I’m going to be there, right with you.”

He stared at her. His gaze was so hot she thought she’d melt. She slipped her hand out from his and walked toward the kitchen, thinking she’d get a glass of water, but mostly wanting to escape the intensity. She had lived such a safe life. And now she wasn’t sure if this morning was the last morning she’d see. It was Kent’s fault, of course, and yet it wasn’t. She’d never known someone quite like him. His life was more in danger than hers, even, and all he could think of was protecting her. When she reached the door, she turned to look at him. He was standing, his eyes roaming her body openly. He was definitely all man. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. It felt very warm in the room.

“I want you,” he said, his voice thick with desire.

“Then take me,” she told him.

He crossed the room and took hold of her shoulders, positioning her against the wall. He kissed her, his lips pressing hard against hers, his tongue meeting hers where their mouths met and twining. She felt the hardness of him against her, and was aware of how little her dress actually covered. Heat rose in her chest, contracting her nipples into hard peaks and making her pussy melt.

He let her go to unzip his pants. His cock wasn’t Morgan’s claimed twelve inches, but it was thick, and longer than any she’d actually had the pleasure to know personally. And it was rock hard already. Maybe he’d been thinking about her as much as she’d been thinking about him. She stared as he ripped a foil wrapper and unrolled a condom slowly over his bulging purplish cockhead and then down the long shaft.

Both his hands went around to her backside and slid up and under her dress. He lifted her, pressing her up against the wall next to the door, his knee nudging her thighs apart. This wasn’t the way lovemaking was supposed to go. It was supposed to be slow and gentle, and the man was supposed to tease her to arousal. But she’d had enough teasing the week before. When he thrust into her and pinned her to the wall she was more than ready enough, and wet enough. “Yes!”

His opened his mouth. For a moment she thought he was going to say something, but he changed his mind, silencing her moan by covering her lips with his.

A week of fantasies coalesced into sudden physical reality. He held her up off the ground as he slammed into her, each thrust knocking his balls against her ass, his pubic bone rubbing against hers. Each thrust heated her core a little bit more. The only drawback was that his hands were both occupied holding her up, and while they felt good on her ass, she ached for more stimulation.

As if reading her mind, he whispered to her, “Stroke your clit for me, honey.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, she obeyed. And continued even when his frank gaze took in her motions, although she felt her cheeks burn. No one, not even Edward, had seen her stroke herself. Of course, the fact that his cock was fucking her, filling her, meant that it wasn’t as if she was just masturbating in front of him. But she knew she’d do that, too, if he commanded it. His orders set her free, not from bonds of steel but from knots of convention and inhibitions.

She felt herself get close, the tingling in her body transformed to an eager need for release. He was almost there too, his cock huge inside her, his eyes wide, his nostrils flaring. All that male desire, all for her.

“Tell me when,” she told him. She could have pushed herself over the edge with a few more strokes of her fingers, but she didn’t want it to be under her control.

He thrust deep inside her, once, twice, three times. “Now, my little angel, now!” It only took his words and one more stroke of the finger to make her body explode with pleasure. She quivered and shook, moaning loudly, feeling her climax all the way to the tips of her toes. A moment later, he, too, found his release, his face contorting with ecstasy. For a long minute he held her sandwiched between him and the wall, still inside her. She knew she wasn’t a light girl, but he didn’t show any indication of wanting to let go.

At last he pulled out of her, expertly divesting his penis of its rubber sheath and dropping it in a nearby trashcan. She grinned at him, her dress once again dropping into place, barely covering her sex.

He smiled back. The tight-lipped tension that had been on his face when she entered and during their lovemaking was gone. He pulled her into his arms. She laid her head against his shoulder, her hands squeezing firm biceps.

Kent finally broke the silence. “I’ve been thinking about doing that all week.”

Angela raised her eyebrows. “I’ve been wondering why you didn’t do that last night.”

Kent chuckled. “Trying to impress you with my self control.”

“Well, I’m impressed now, big boy.”

Again the chuckle. “That’s big boy,
Sir
.”

“Yes, Sir.” Just like that, he’d changed the mood. She enjoyed teasing him. But simply calling him
Sir
was enough to make her breasts and pussy start aching with want. And even aside from the lustful feelings, it gave her a sense of peace. The lust she sort of understood, but the rest seemed to defy all common sense.

“We’ve got all day,” he whispered. “We’re safe until the night. But—” His face showed his reluctance. “We should spend some of it preparing.”

“What can we do?” she asked, and then added, “Sir,” not wanting to let the moment go entirely. She might not have many more moments left.

He smiled at her. “Such a lovely sub,” he said, stroking her cheek. She wasn’t sure whether it was the words or the touch that made her shiver. “They’re vulnerable to fire, but we don’t want to burn the club down. People are vulnerable to fire, too. But I think there are other things we can do.”

Chapter Eleven

Kent surveyed the room. The crowd at Dark Xanadu was similar to the BDSM crowd, and different. There was a lot of flesh on display, certainly, but the swingers wore more colorful clothing and there wasn’t as much leather. There weren’t lines to use most of the equipment, either. Instead, people canoodled on couches and groped in dark corners. The lighting was kept lower for the sake of the shy, but there were plenty of exhibitionists.

One woman had brought a large reddish-brown dog, the largest Kent had ever seen. It had to be at least half wolf. The dog sat perfectly still and well-behaved at her feet. He supposed the dog discouraged unwanted approaches—probably wanted ones, too. The woman wore a mask, but something about her looked familiar. She was part of the BDSM crowd. A sub, he thought, although she looked anything but submissive now.

“Almost too dark to play safely,” said Charles. He’d shown up an hour before the swinger event started. Against normal people, Kent would be happy to have Charles at his side during a fight. He was strong and quick. Against vampires, Kent wasn’t at all sure. But the man had a right to be involved if he wanted to be, and he apparently wanted to be.

Kent nodded. He’d had an argument with the organizers about the lighting, and he suspected the compromise they’d agreed on wouldn’t be followed unless he was there to enforce it.

Genna had shown up twenty minutes later, insisting on helping. Genna would be even less useful than Charles in a fight against vampires, but Genna and Angela had a role to play. He didn’t know if the trick he had in mind would work or not, but it was worth a shot. He’d have to protect Genna with his
chi
—Charles, too—and gamble that the training he’d given Angela that afternoon would suffice for her. He’d pushed her to focus until she couldn’t keep her eyes straight anymore, and then they’d gone to the shooting range for some practice with a handgun. A little pistol wouldn’t do squat against a vampire. The entire usefulness of a gun against them was in the kinetic energy the bullet transferred, which might slow a vamp down or stun them. The hole it made didn’t do a thing.

So Angela had practiced with a .45 semi-automatic, which had way too much kick for her for any normal purpose. Her hands and shoulders were sore, but she didn’t complain. In a crowded room like Dark Xanadu’s main floor, he hoped she never had to fire it, but it would give her an extra second to live if she hit a vamp at point-blank range. Hopefully, he’d be able to do something useful with that second.

There was no sign of Brennan. If anyone had been there, Kent had thought it would have been him.

Maybe Mario wouldn’t make a move tonight. No way he was dead already. That voice must have been a recording triggered, like the explosion, when the metal plate sprung up. Nothing else made sense. Mario might even think that Kent and Angela had perished in the fire, but Kent doubted it. Mario would keep himself better informed than that.

He grabbed one of the blue metal folding chairs, moved it to the corner of the room where he planned to make a stand if need be, and told Angela to sit. She was obviously nervous. Who wouldn’t be? And he knew a way to calm both their nerves without letting his guard down. He massaged her shoulders, finding the knots of tense muscles through the fabric of her smooth silk blouse. He hadn’t ever remembered telling a sub to wear jeans before—he much preferred the accessibility of a skirt—but this was one time when ease of motion was more important than bared legs or easy access. They’d have fun later, during the day, or once the danger was passed. Even in casual blue jeans and a loose lavender blouse, Angela looked sexy.

Forty-five minutes after the swinger’s party started, three vampires walked in. Greenie—Peter—was instantly recognizable by everyone. He was dressed a less outlandishly, with black jeans and a black T-shirt, but he still stood out. Kent recognized Mario, too, although at least the man blended in better. With a white starched shirt and a loud red tie, the vampire would have fit right in with this crowd, and his dark good looks would have made him popular even without the glamour. There was a woman with them Kent hadn’t seen before, a brunette who wore her hair long and was dressed in an Emma Peel catsuit. He’d been hoping they’d just be facing two, but apparently he wasn’t that lucky.

People got out of their way in a hurry, so they must have been throwing their glamour around. They walked forward until they stood in a line twenty feet from Kent. Charles stood at his right side. Angela, as planned, moved off a ways to the left. Genna was trying to blend in with the crowd, standing near the wall twenty feet to the right of Charles.