Rajmund (19 page)

Raj was uncharacteristically edgy and dissatisfied as he dressed for the night. And it wasn't the usual hunger making him feel this way. He was old enough, and powerful enough, that he didn't need to feed nightly. The woman at the bar two nights ago should have been more than sufficient to keep him strong for another day at least—not that he
had
to go that long, but he could. He considered stopping in for a drink somewhere on the way to meet Em and the others, but if he needed blood that badly, he could always tap into the bagged supply at the warehouse. And besides, for some reason the idea of feeding from an anonymous stranger was unappealing.

No, it wasn't for
some
reason. It was for a very specific reason, one with blond hair and a tidy little body he was eager to taste in every way possible. Too eager. Raj didn't believe in self-indulgence. Yes, he drove nice cars and wore nice clothes, and his penthouse in Manhattan was well beyond comfortable in its amenities, but those were things, meaningless possessions he could walk away from without a thought. When it came to his personal life, he was all about discipline and control. He had the occasional vodka, but never drank to excess. He preferred blood from the vein of a beautiful woman, but he never overindulged and always left his women happy and sated. He had his vampire children, but he was their master and their sire. He was not their friend or their drinking buddy. Emelie he trusted utterly, but she was the only one.

Which was why this sudden irrational attraction to Sarah Stratton was so irritating. His need to protect her, to taste her, to steal her away and make her his and his alone, was powerful and instinctive. He didn't have to think about whether he wanted her; he
did
want her—totally and in every way possible. It took an effort to stop himself from ripping her clothes off and to hell with the consequences. He shook his head in disgust. If he had a choice, he'd fly back to Manhattan tonight and never see Sarah Stratton again. Since that wasn't an option, he'd simply have to act like a civilized man instead of a ravening beast, even if the latter was closer to the truth.

He pulled on his leather jacket and picked up his cell phone, noticing there was an incoming message from the lovely Sarah herself. He frowned, thinking she was canceling their appointment tonight, which was unacceptable. When he heard her message, his frown deepened.

"I know you did something last night, vampire, and I want to know what it was. No one screws around with my head, you got that? Not even you. And to hell with ten o'clock, Mr. High and Mighty. I want you here ten minutes after sundown or I'm going to the cops."

There was a pause during which he could hear her give a frustrated sigh.

"
Okay, so I won't really go to the cops, but I'm not waiting around either. If you're not here by nine, I'm leaving and you can just use your stupid vampire tricks to try and find me."

Part of him wanted to chuckle at the exasperation in her voice. And part of him, completely irrational, wanted to applaud her determination in standing up to him. The more rational part demanded to know why she remembered anything at all about what had happened last night. Had he unconsciously
wanted
her to remember him and left a weakness in the memories he'd planted? That would be both stupid and dangerous. Only one way to find out. He punched in Em's speed dial. His vampires were awake and ready to go. He could hear their voices in the background when she answered.

"My lord."

"I've got an errand to run on the way over, Em. It won't take long."

"I hope not,” she said dryly. “Being stuck in this warehouse is like being trapped in a monkey cage. These guys need to be let out."

He laughed. “Not much longer. I'm on my way.”
But first
, he thought to himself,
there's the matter of a stubborn little human to deal with
.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Sarah pulled her sweater over her head, smoothing it over her hips and checking to make sure the lace on her bra didn't look lumpy beneath the fine weave. Her freshly shampooed hair shone in the overhead light of her bedroom, and she'd put on just enough makeup to give her eyes a slightly smoky quality, the gold flecks like bits of fire in the smoke.
Oh, get a grip, Sarah. Flecks of fire in the smoke, for God's sake.
She laughed at herself. Clearly she'd been reading too many of those romance novels she was so fond of.

Of course, she was nothing like the kick-ass heroines in those books. She had never fired a gun, never used a knife—unless the ones in her kitchen drawer counted. And although she kept herself fit, there was no way she was going to high-kick anyone into submission. She was too short for one thing, and a little too curvy and five pounds too heavy, no matter how many mornings she ran her five-mile circuit. Some men liked her curves, though. Not usually the
right
men, but at least it proved she wasn't a total toad.

And why was she spending so much time getting ready anyway? This wasn't a date. Quite the opposite. She intended to read Raj the riot act and send him on his way. That was it.

"This definitely isn't a date,” she scolded her reflection for the umpteenth time. Of course,
that
begged the question of why she was wearing her best lace push-up bra and had taken the time to put on eye shadow in the first place. Oh well, gotta create the smoke for those flecks of fire, right?

She laughed out loud, like a crazy person, and sat on the edge of the bed to pull on her shoes. They weren't designed by anyone famous—like most women, she didn't have the budget to spend five hundred dollars on a pair of shoes. But they were nice and, more importantly, they had a four inch heel so she wouldn't feel like such a shrimp standing next to Raj. Not that this was a date or anything. She stood and turned off the overhead light as she walked out of the bedroom, ready to beard the lion in his den. Or her den. Or whatever. Because this definitely wasn't a date.

Raj took the stairs up to Sarah's porch in a graceful leap. He was in a hurry to get over to the warehouse and didn't have time to waste pretending to be human. He put his hand on the doorknob and, finding it unlocked, twisted it open and walked in, knocking as he did so.

He caught Sarah halfway down the stairs. She was wearing a different bra, one that made her obvious curves even more obvious beneath a soft wool sweater. And what the hell was he noticing that for? She was looking at him in shock, which quickly changed to outrage.

"Just come on in, why don't you?"

"I did, thanks,” he said, ignoring her sarcasm. “You ever think of locking your door?"

"What would be the point? It wouldn't stop
you,
would it?"

"Nice. You about ready to leave?"

"Leave? Are we going somewhere?"

"Yes. I have a stop to make and then I'm taking you to dinner."

"Are you?” she asked, in a tone that implied quite the opposite. She came down another couple of steps but stayed on the staircase which put her at eye level with him. “What happened last night? And I want the truth, not more of your vampire bullshit."

"I wasn't aware I'd given you any vampire bullshit,” he said mildly.

"Ha, ha. What happened, Raj? And don't say
nothing
, because I know damn well you did something to my memories, and it sure as hell wasn't consensual."

Raj pulled back in surprise. First of all, she shouldn't have remembered anything, but secondly, her choice of words made him distinctly uncomfortable. He didn't take women against their will. Not ever. Not since that first night in the tavern when he'd been too out of his mind to realize what was happening. Sarah was waiting for an answer, glaring at him accusingly. She'd done something with her eyes that brought out the gray but didn't hide the gold flecks that were always there.

"We talked about the missing women,” he said slowly. “It was . . . you were upset. More than upset. I didn't understand why, but it bothered me to see you like that, so I put you out and took away the memories so you wouldn't have nightmares."

It was a version of the truth, anyway. She hadn't been upset precisely, although she'd definitely been out of control. And he
didn't
want to add to her nightmares by inflicting himself on her life.

Sarah was watching him, searching his face, looking for the truth, he figured. He stared back at her calmly and knew the moment she decided to believe him. “Don't ever do that again, Raj,” she said softly. “Not for any reason. My memories are mine, good and bad, and I'll deal with them. I can't stand the idea of anyone messing around in my head."

There was more to that than what she was saying, and it made him wonder what had happened in her past. Did it have anything to do with whatever she was hiding? “I'm sorry,” he said.

She smiled all at once, as if he'd surprised her. “Well, that's something you don't hear every day.” Her expression abruptly became serious again and she gave him a funny look. “Er, Raj, we didn't, that is, um . . . we didn't—"

"Sarah,” he said softly, catching her eyes. “If I'd made love to you, you'd remember it."

Her face flushed a delightful pink. “Arrogant bastard,” she muttered, but she smiled at him again, and he felt a weight lift from his soul. “Okay. Let me get my coat."

He watched her walk past him down the rest of the stairs, watched her tight ass swing by beneath a pair of dark blue slacks, with those damn sexy heels she was always wearing. “Better make it a heavy coat,” he said. “It's cold out. Maybe the one you had on the other night.”
The one that hides the temptation of your sweet little body
, he added to himself.

"Okay,” she said agreeably and pulled out the long, brown coat. He took it from her, holding it while she slipped it on, sliding it up over her shoulders. He let himself run his hands down her arms ending with a light brush of fingertips, but resisted the urge to bury his face in the warm gold of her hair.

Jesus, Raj, you're in trouble.

She looked up at him over her shoulder. “So you're taking me to dinner? Are you hungry?” she asked innocently.

"Are you offering?” he couldn't help retorting.

She snorted delicately. “In your dreams, bud."

He leaned down to murmur directly in her ear, “Or maybe in yours, sweetheart."

She shivered and he smiled in satisfaction. He might not have any intention of taking her, but he didn't want her completely immune to him either.

Sarah pulled the door open, but he stepped in front of her, his attention directed next door where someone was watching once again. “Your neighbor pays a lot of attention to who comes and goes here."

"That's just Mrs. M.,” she said blithely, walking around him and out onto the porch. She gave him a warning look. “She keeps on eye on me."

"You get a lot of male visitors?"

"Not at all,” she said, patting his arm, as if he needed reassurance. “Mrs. M.'s just a bit overprotective."

Good
, he thought. But he kept it to himself. “Lock your door,” he instructed her.

"Yessir, Mr. Raj, sir."

He walked ahead of her down the stairs. It was going to be a long night.

Sarah watched Raj out of the corner of her eye as he maneuvered through the Friday night traffic. He seemed different tonight, still friendly and overprotective, but cooler somehow, except for that one slip about being hungry, which had been a pretty stupid thing for her to say. She
hadn't
meant it as a come-on. Had she? She had to admit she was attracted to him. Who wouldn't be? He had that whole tall, dark and handsome vibe going, except he was blond and blue-eyed, of course. His hair was thick, brushed straight back to his collar, just long enough that she wondered what it would look like if he let it grow even longer, maybe past his shoulders. And with those gorgeous blue eyes, kind of an icy blue, except for when they burned with an undeniable heat. She shivered inside her warm coat. Yeah. She was definitely attracted to him. And sometimes she was sure he was attracted to her too, but then it was like he threw a switch and disappeared behind that all-business exterior.

"You're different from the others,” she said suddenly.

In spite of the busy traffic, he turned to stare at her, his eyes practically glowing in the dim light. “Others?” he asked, his voice so low and deep it was nearly a growl.

Sarah licked her lips nervously. “The other vampires here in Buffalo."

"You've met other vampires here in Buffalo?"

There was something about the way he said it, the way he was looking at her, that suddenly made her aware she was trapped in a car with a vampire. A very big, dangerous vampire. She was sorry she'd brought the whole thing up now, but he was waiting for an explanation, so she said, “Sort of. I mean, I didn't actually
meet
anyone, but there was a University reception last year. It was supposed to be a showcase of local Buffalo talent. Manhattan's gotten so expensive that some people are actually moving back to Buffalo to live. Not many, of course, but someone decided it couldn't hurt to remind people that there is a major university here, with a medical center and lots of eggheads and artists. It's not Manhattan, but it's not Outer Mongolia either."

Raj gave her a skeptical look. “The vampires?” he reminded her.

"Right. Well, I'm just a historian, and a junior one at that, but my friend Linda—you met her the other night—her husband's kind of a star in the art department."

He nodded, and Sarah thought it was possible she'd told him about it last night and didn't remember. “Well,” she continued, “they invited me to go with them to the reception. All the local bigwigs were there including your boss, Krystof Sapieha."

"He's not my boss,” Raj snapped.

Sarah frowned in confusion. “But I thought he was the local vampire lord, and that—"

"It's complicated. Go on with your story,” he commanded.

She gave him a dirty look—he really
was
going to have to stop giving her orders. “Anyway, Sapieha was only there for maybe an hour or so with a couple of other vamps—bodyguards, I guess—although I wasn't too impressed."