Dark Xanadu (9 page)

At the first touch of her warm mouth over his shaft, he shuddered. Some subs were passive, waiting for instructions. Others looked for a way to please. It didn’t get much more pleasing than this. He’d been slow and deliberate with her, drawing things out, teasing until she asked. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d returned the favor with interest, but she didn’t. Her mouth bobbed greedily over his cock, sucking hard, her tongue laving the underside. He wouldn’t last a minute like that, and he told her so.

The only effect was to make her go faster. He could have stopped her, but he wanted her to taste him. Some primitive desire to mark his territory made him want his flavor on her tongue. What had made him so possessive, he didn’t know. He’d been around a long time to settle for just one woman, and he knew that to possess Angela would mean letting her possess him back.

He came so hard he felt as if his cock were exploding in her mouth. She held him deep against her throat, swallowing down all he offered. And then, when he at last subsided, she licked him clean, let his cock drop and grinned at him.

She adopted the kneeling position Genna had taught her and looked up at him. “How was that, Master?” She knew how that was, he was sure. She was smiling like a woman in full knowledge of her power.

“It was fantastic,” he told her.

“You were really ready to go, Master. You must have been enjoying what you were doing to me.”

“Little angel, whatever I choose to do to you, I’m enjoying it. You can count on that and never worry that I might not be.”

Angela took a little breath, and nodded. “That’s so freeing. Knowing you’ll do exactly as you please and not having to worry about it. It’s strange, because having my hands tied like that—I wanted to touch you back, and I couldn’t, but I also didn’t have to worry about it. I could just feel.”

“That’s the idea. That was a very light introduction to bondage. You could still move a lot of your body; it can get much more restrictive, and then you have to worry about even less. We’ll find what level you like over time.”

Angela smiled. “So you wouldn’t mind tying me up some more?”

“Nope. All part of the service.”

“I thought
I
was serving
you
.”

He chuckled. “In a good BDSM relationship—no, in a good relationship, period—both partners look for each other’s pleasure. BDSM is no different. It’s a matter of liking one person in charge, not making one person do all the caring.”

She smiled at him. “I want to fall asleep in your lap.”

Sounded good to him. “Then climb up here.”

“So tempting. But tomorrow’s a work day. I should be getting home instead.”

Kent mentally kicked himself. He glanced at the clock; it was already after eleven.
I should have thought of that.
Still, she didn’t move. “You may rise,” he told her. “And get your clothes on.” As much as he wanted to hold her all night, or at least the part of the night, he wasn’t making love to her. He had to let her go.

She’d barely gotten them back on when Charles appeared at the door. A blush appeared on Angela’s cheeks, no doubt thinking of how close Charles had been to walking in on them. She might enjoy playing in public some day, thought Kent, but that day was still in the future.

“Let me pick you up at your place on Friday?” asked Kent. So far, she hadn’t told him where she lived, and he was ready for her to say no. But if he’d earned a bit of her trust there, he wanted to know it.

She hesitated only a moment. “Sure. Let me give you the address.”

He recorded it in his cell phone, and then walked her to her car. “Friday, then.”

Angela nodded. “Looking forward to it.”

He kissed her through the open window of her car. He remembered when he was a teenager, holding a goodbye kiss for as long as possible, not wanting the sensation that he was actually kissing a real, live girl to end. But she did have to go to work in the morning. He reluctantly drew back.

Kent watched Angela’s Malibu drive off into the distance, waiting until it was out of sight to head back to the club. Cute car. Cute girl.

There was a man standing at the door to the warehouse, leaning back at the side of it like a hooker looking for business. A glowing cigarette was held idly in his fingers. He lifted the cigarette to his mouth once, and then put it down, but he didn’t blow any smoke, nor did the end flare into brightness. For a moment, though, his face was illuminated, dark and vaguely familiar. Kent didn’t think he’d seen him in the club, though. So where else? The club had absorbed almost all his attention since moving east.

It took him three more steps until he recollected where he’d seen the man before. By then he was a few feet away, having climbed the concrete steps to the entrance.
Mario.
From Los Angeles. No wonder there hadn’t been any smoke coming from his cigarette. He hadn’t been breathing at all. Mario had been involved in the kidnappings. He had thought Mario had been in the house he burned down, full of vampires, but the light had been bad and he’d been in a hurry. Apparently he’d been wrong.

“Hello Kent.” Mario’s name may have fit in with the barrio, but he wasn’t any more Hispanic than Kent was, and neither was his accent. The offspring of Italian immigrants, Kent guessed.

Kent stopped. “Mario. Wish I could say it was a pleasure.” So much for vampires not travelling across country. Or respecting each other’s territory, unless Mario had permission from the head vampire in Washington to be there.

“No, Kent. It’s not a pleasure.” But Mario was smiling.

Kent’s pistol was in the desk in his office. A gun only slowed a vampire down, but that would be enough if he could get inside the warehouse, perhaps. There was something to the idea that a vampire needed to be invited in to a space to enter it, although the head vampire of L.A. didn’t seem to be governed by those rules the way his henchman did. Kent’s sword, which could inflict more permanent damage, was hanging over the door to his office. Not useful.

Mario moved toward him with agonizing slowness, especially given that the vampire could probably move a twice the speed of a normal human if he’d wanted to. Perhaps Mario was trying to use his glamour on him, but so far no vampire had succeeded. It had been the one thing he had going for him when he’d been hunting the vampires down. They always expected to be able to charm him into submission. Two had been taken by surprise when he faked it and then chopped their heads off. But without a sword, there wasn’t much point in pretending. And Mario wasn’t issuing any commands anyway, so he probably wasn’t trying to be charming. He was drawing it out for the sake of drawing it out.

The first punch went to his gut and almost doubled him over in pain. Like most of his kind, Mario was incredibly strong. Kent did the only thing he could and swung back. He caught Mario’s jaw solidly. It would have laid most ordinary men flat. Instead it hurt Kent’s fist about as much as it seemed to hurt Mario, whose head jerked back for a moment before he laughed.

Another punch to the stomach, and Kent couldn’t keep himself upright any more. The next hit landed on top of his head, and he stumbled down the stairs. For a moment he had time to appreciate the irony that after those weeks of danger in L.A. It was here in Washington, where he thought himself safe, that he was going to meet his end. Images blurred through his mind—Charles and Brennan and Genna. Angela. He knew from his time with her that evening that she was a natural submissive. Maybe Brennan would look her up after he was gone.

He growled. Or maybe he wouldn’t have to. He swept the charging Mario off balance with his leg, sending Mario crashing into the wall. He had to move beyond the nausea and the growing dark in his brain to make it to the door. He ran, but he was only getting there in slow motion. The door blurred ahead, and then it opened. Charles. It was no good. “Run,” he tried to say. Better that Charles never even know about vampires. Brennan, Genna, Charles, Angela. People worth protecting with all his strength. His life, if necessary.

He didn’t have time to turn around. He felt the impact from behind, in the middle of his back, and then felt his head hit the concrete landing as he stumbled.

He woke up to see Charles standing over him, the concrete cold under his body. He pushed off the leather jacket that someone, probably Charles, had draped over him.

“Easy there, Kent.” Charles held him down with a hand on his chest. Was he that weak? It seemed so. “Guy got away,” Charles told him, anticipating his question. Got away. That was good, actually. It meant Charles didn’t know what Mario was. Which meant Charles was safe. Obviously, trouble had followed him. He’d have to keep it from the others.

“Guy was a hell of a fighter,” Kent said. “He ran before he got my wallet, I take it?”

Charles nodded. “Yeah, he didn’t even make a grab for it. Although I did think he was gonna kick you one more time, for a moment there. Not sure you could have taken another blow.”

Me neither.
“Good thing Angela had driven off.”

“Yeah, might have damaged her view of you, seeing you get beat by a little guy. I thought you would have been able to take him, easy.”

Sure, if he wasn’t a vampire.
With black belts in tae kwon do and karate, plus years of kendo experience, Kent wasn’t exactly a pushover. “He surprised me with the first hit. Got me woozy.” He brushed off Charles’s hand and managed to sit up.

Charles nodded. “Your instincts didn’t take over?”

All those hours in the dojo should have made some moves automatic. If Mario’s first blow really had gone to his head, they probably would have. But fully conscious, knowing Mario was twice as strong, and twice as fast, he’d tried to get away. He knew it was the smart play. He was sure he hadn’t seen the last of Mario, and this time, it was best to live to fight another day. But there was no good way to explain it to Charles.

“Sure. I’m good. He was better, at least at that point.”

Charles frowned. “We should get you an ambulance. A guy like that, he can’t be just a street thug after wallets, can he?”

He didn’t have an explanation. And he didn’t want to have to make one to a doctor, and certainly not to a cop. “I’ll be okay,” he said. “I’d rather not have sirens around this place right now. It’s bad for business.” He got to his feet. It took him a moment to feel steady, but Genna and Charles were both right there, ready to catch him.

“I’ll be okay,” he repeated. “I’m just going to my office.”

“You need to see a doctor,” said Charles.

“I’ll drive to the hospital when the night’s through.”
And tell them I fell on the steps.

 “No,” said Charles. “You won’t. I’ll drive you, and we’re going now.” Charles grabbed his upper arm forcefully.

Kent didn’t have the strength to resist. Charles was far from weak, even if he didn’t have all of Kent’s training.

Charles was a good man. They were all good people. This time, though, he couldn’t let them have his back. In Los Angeles, he knew where the bad guys were before they had any idea where he lived. Here, the situation was reversed. He’d protect what he needed to protect, even if the best way to protect his friends was to die.

* * * * *

The doctor diagnosed him as having a mild concussion, but no skull fracture. He discharged Kent with orders to take it easy for the next few days and have someone stay with him for the next twenty-four hours, which he ignored.

Kent had an apartment a mile from the club, which he’d barely used since moving. He’d slept in the warehouse as often as not, either because he wanted to get to work first thing in the morning or had kept working on the place until late at night. But for the next couple of days, he stayed in his apartment, so he wasn’t drawing Mario to the others.

The sensible thing to do was call Angela and tell her it was off. To keep her away from both club and Mario. Would she fall into the hands of the other vampire, Morgan, if he did? He doubted it. Angela didn’t seem to care for Morgan, and unless the vampire got a chance to use glamour on her—and he didn’t seem to care for her, either—Angela was probably safe and sound. Maybe.

For himself, he definitely wanted to see her again. There were too many unknown factors to make a good decision. Mario jumped him not long after Angela had driven away. Had Mario seen him with Angela already? Probably, but not definitely. He might be able to track her down by her license plate. The vampires had police connections in L.A., and Mario might or might not have access to those here, depending in part on whether he was an intruder or an honored guest of the vampires already in the city. If Morgan and Mario compared notes, that would definitely be bad.

The more she was connected to him, the more likely she was to get drawn into a mess. Yet the further away from her he stayed, the more she was all alone in a mess she might already be in the middle of. She wouldn’t believe a story about vampires, of course, any more than the police would.

Chapter Six

“So tell us more about this guy!” Stacy leaned forward, her eyes full of eagerness. “I still can’t believe you stood up Morgan.”