Return of the Assassin (All the King's Men) (19 page)

"This way." He motioned toward the hall, and then led her to the end, where he opened the door to one of the spare rooms. "Bathroom's across the hall." He turned on the light inside the room then stepped back to let her go inside.

As she brushed past him, he closed his eyes and held his breath, doing all he could not to take hold of her and never let go. His dick wasn't helping, swelling inside his pants and aching for him to take what belonged to him.

I can't.

Yes, you can.

No. I won't do that to her.

Do what? She's your mate.

Fine. I get that now, okay. Happy? But I'm still mated to Carmen. I can't let Carmen go.

The Voice sighed, and Malek got the impression that it was covering its face and shaking its head in dismay.

True, he had crossed one hurdle, but still hadn't crossed the other. Admitting that Gina was his mate was a moot point if he still couldn't let go of Carmen. And he didn't think he would ever be able to do that.

But knowing that didn't stop him from bringing his gaze up to watch Gina set her bags on the floor and turn around to look at him. The air crackled between them, aftershocks from the gentle caress just moments ago. That single touch had done something to her, too. He could smell it. Arousal wafted off of her like ambrosia, and his cock hiccupped.

This wasn't good. He needed to get away before he did something he would regret.

"If you need anything…" The words trailed off, and Malek could only shake his head as he dismissed himself and escaped down the hall, through the living room, and out the front door.

Out. He needed to get out and away from her. If he didn't, he would do just as Micah wanted him to do. He would fuck her silly into next week.

And that just wouldn't do.

* * *

Gina heard the front door open and close.

Had Malek just left? As in, left her alone in the house? What the hell?

She darted down the hall and threw open the front door in time to see the taillights of Malek's truck pull down the long, curving driving. Then his tires squealed as he hit the road and sped away.

What the fucking hell!

He was leaving her? Alone? In a strange house?
His
house? Under less than ideal circumstances? She had a pair of Dacian vampires gunning for her, she'd left her one ally—Trevor—back at AKM, had no idea where she was, and now the one guy who had brought her heart back to life and who was supposed to protect her had just abandoned her.

Her hands trembled.

Oh no.

Cold sweat broke down her back and across her forehead, and the trembling crept up her arms.

She slammed the door and locked it, which was a feat with her fingers suddenly shaking so violently she could hardly grip the bolt, then backed into the living room. Her whole body shivered, her teeth chattered, and the ache of fear welled inside her chest.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. No. Please don't let this happen to me now.

Her heart raced, bones rattled, and her chest constricted so she couldn't get a decent breath.

Pant-gasp-pant.

Shit. She couldn't breathe.

Bile rose in her throat, and nausea stabbed her belly as pain speared her chest. She was going to be sick. Turning on her heel, she sped toward the hall and into the bathroom, landing on her knees in front of the toilet just in time.

After what felt like an hour of retching, she fell back against the wall, and then rolled to the floor.

Not since this morning had she suffered a panic attack, even though she'd had every reason to have one with all the shit that happened at AKM. All day, she had kept her fear and anxiety at bay. She hadn't succumbed to the stampede of distress that had threatened her off and on for hours. The reprieve had been enough to make her think she was getting better, that she was somehow gaining control over the anxiety-induced invasions…that revealing her past with Armand had taken some of the edge off. She had thought that revealing and releasing her demons where that bastard was concerned would put an end to this shit. What was she missing? Hell, she had even come face-to-face with Lakota and lived. And even though she still held enormous guilt over what she had done to Sev, he had sat by her side tonight and protected her from his father as if he held no malice whatsoever against her. Just that simple gesture alone had gone miles to ease her guilt. Clearly, she had made big strides today, so why, after reclaiming some control over her life, was she now doubled over on Malek's bathroom floor, clutching her chest, with tears streaming her face, begging God to help her? Why was she suffering the worst panic attack she'd had yet?

Please, make it stop. Please, please, God. What more do I need to do?

She rolled to her hands and knees as pain stabbed her gut again, twisting inside her, stealing the rest of her breath.

If only Malek were here, everything would be fine. Everything would be—

Her whole body froze, and she gasped as if sucker punched. He was the answer. Malek was the key, but not in the way she had thought. She had thought that her panic attacks were a result of fear or a response to his declaration that he had mated her. That he was somehow the cause…that the thought he had mated her was the reason for them. But no. He wasn't the cause. He was the
solution.
That's what her body had been trying to tell her all this time—what it had been telling her last night after her failure with Searcy and Vaydon. Malek really
was
the solution. Her soul had chosen his, too, and the panic attacks were her body's way of telling her she needed him. That she had to return so she could be with him.

And hadn't this morning's panic attack struck immediately after she considered not taking Trevor's advice. When she had almost decided not to give Malek a chance. Her body's violent reaction had been telling her then that any thought against joining Malek wouldn't be tolerated.

Female vampires formed mating bonds to their mates just as males did, but their connections were usually much weaker, which was how they survived if they lost their mates. But once in a while, a female bonded more powerfully to her mate…to the extent that his absence created physical discomfort. That's what was happening to her. She was in a female suffering. Not only had she mated Malek, but she had connected to him on a deeper level than most females did to their mates. The fact she had tried to reject him for weeks had only made her suffering worse.

It all made sense now. Her debilitating panic attacks had started after she left Chicago—after she had left Malek. And not because he had mated her, but because
she
had mated
him
…because she needed him…loved him…yearned for him. He was her protector in every way. Hadn't she been okay the entire time she was around him? Even when her nerves were frayed and stripped bare—when she would have succumbed to her fear and fallen prey to anxiety under such stimuli only days ago—she had been okay as long as Malek was with her. It hadn't mattered that he had treated her like shit or that he seemed to be torn over his feelings for her. As long as he was with her, she was fine, but as soon as he was gone, her fear steamrolled back and unleashed with retroactive fury, ambushing her like a shark in chum-filled waters to leave her in a spent heap on his bathroom floor.

Now that she realized the truth, her chest eased, and she rolled to her back. For the second time tonight, she breathed more easily than she had in weeks. Earlier, in Malek's arms, she had taken her first real breath in forever, and now she felt like she'd come up from underwater. What a relief to be able to breathe again. Really breathe. Her lungs expanded to full capacity and the tension that had set up shop in her neck vanished. And just like that, the panic subsided. The real trigger of her panic and anxiety was revealed, and now that she acknowledged the truth, it was as if a boulder lifted off her body, and she could rise again.

Her heart, body, and soul had fallen in love with Malek during the days he had watched over her in her cell, but she had been too guarded to see the truth. Just as he had mated her, she had, in her own way, mated him. Deep down, she had known that he was the one who could show her how to love again, but her mind had gotten in the way and failed to acknowledge her feelings and instead disguised them as fear and confusion, reminding her of all that Armand had done and all the pain he had caused.

Out of nowhere, harsh sobs burst from her chest. Tears flowed like rivers down the sides of her face as she stared up at the ceiling. The purge was on. Adrenaline broke inside her blood like a fever, and weeks of restrained emotions spilled from her in an exuberant rush, finally set free.

She laughed even as she sobbed, and she slapped her hands over her face and rubbed away the tears even as more replaced them. The release cleansed her and set her heart free, and each passing moment pushed her more fully into awareness.

She needed Malek. She needed him more than she needed food and water. He was her savior—the warrior who would guard her heart and save her even from herself.

Screw rationale. To hell with Armand's memory. And to hell with rejecting Malek as her mate. He belonged to her, goddamn it. He was hers, and she was his. She wanted him, and as soon as he returned home, she would tell him so. She would force him to face her and finish what he had started back in her cell all those weeks ago, because now, more than ever, it was clear. She couldn't live without him. Not one more night, one more hour, or even one more minute.

Malek was the one.

Malek was close to his breaking point. He had known for days that something eventually had to give, because he couldn't continue living like he was. Well, the time had come. Now what?

What do I do?

This time The Voice didn't answer. But really, what could it say that hadn't already been said a hundred times?

For all the progress he had made tonight by accepting that Gina was, in fact, his mate, it still felt like he had taken two giant steps back.

He had spent the past half-hour driving around the city, no destination in mind, not sure where he would end up until he looked up and realized where he had parked his truck. Four Alarm, the club where his team used to spend all their time off before Micah had mated Sam, Sev and Ari had mated each other, and before Io had found a mate in Princess Miriam. Now, he was the only one who seemed to spend time at Four Alarm on a regular basis, which was probably for the best given what he now came here for. There was no need for his teammates to witness how far he had fallen.

And wasn't it ironic that of all the places his subconscious could have taken him tonight, it took him here? How pathetic was he that he had nowhere better to go but to the place where he could get shit-faced drunk and buy whores?

He didn't want to go inside, but he didn't want to go home, either. Going home meant facing Gina, and facing Gina meant she would be in his bed within minutes of him walking through the door. And that would only bring them both more pain. With nowhere else to go, he pulled himself out of his truck and reluctantly trudged across the street and pulled open the door.

The doorman gave him a nod. "Full house tonight," he said.

What the doorman meant was that there were plenty of working girls there to choose from. Malek had built such a reputation that he couldn't even walk into the place without the doorman thinking he was there for anything but the hookers. Was this the kind of mate Gina deserved? Hell no. He was doing her a favor by skipping out. One day she would see that if she didn't already, and she would be grateful he was gone.

"Thanks." He passed through and mentally encouraged the humans sitting at his table to vacate the premises so he could sit at his usual post.

Within minutes, a waitress brought him a bottle of whiskey and a glass. His usual as of late.

How telling that the waitresses all knew what he drank without even having to ask.

Still, he accepted the bottle and handed over a bill. "Keep the change." Then he poured himself a glass, then another, and another, ready to drown himself. Maybe if he drank himself into a stupor, he wouldn't have enough strength or coordination left to steal Gina away to his bedroom when he got home. If he made it home at all.

* * *

Lorena entered Four Alarm, ready to get her freak on with the first rough and tough male she could find. After taking a seat at a table by the dance floor and ordering a Disaronno, she settled back and took a quick inventory of the meat market. Lots of wimps—guys who thought they were tough, but who merely played wolves in sheep's clothing. The kind who, if they didn't care so much about styling their hair, manscaping their balls, and getting manicures, might have a set large enough to at least satisfy her. As it was, they were too pretty-pretty for her tastes.

She needed a rugged man. One who got off on giving pain as much as she got off on receiving it. A man who—

Well, well. What have we here?

Across the dance floor, sitting at the same corner table he had been at the first time she saw him and looking just as deadly delicious and ready for action, Malek was downing whiskey like he needed an IV of the stuff.

How fortunate was this?

Good for her that she was dressed to impress in four-inch stilettos, skintight leather leggings, and a bustier that pushed her breasts into healthy swells and was cut so low as to barely cover her nipples. She fluffed her wavy, mahogany hair, slid off her leather jacket, and set her sights on her target. No one would take him from her tonight.

It was time to satisfy her appetites.
All
her appetites. And Malek was the main course.

She grabbed her drink, slid out of her seat, and strolled around the dance floor, gliding her hand over the railing that encircled a cove of tables. Red, blue, and purple lights strobed the darkness, and as she neared Malek's table, his gaze lifted and met hers as if drawn to her.

She licked her lips and smiled as she closed the last few feet between them. "Hi there." She set her drink on the table and eased onto the red, leather seat beside him.

His drunken gaze swiveled and danced over her. Then he turned toward his dry glass and reached for the half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey. But his hand merely grazed the side, and he nearly tipped the bottle over.

"Here, let me." She picked up the bottle and poured him another glass, then lifted the glass to his lips. "This is what you want, isn't it?"

He blinked and one eyebrow ticked into a slight frown, but he nodded anyway and tilted his head back, opening his mouth as she poured the amber liquid down his throat.

He came back up, and his head bobbed left to right, then back again as he turned toward her. "Who are you?" He said it like he didn't really care about the answer.

She poured him another drink. "I'm Lorena. And I know aaalll about you. Malek." She abandoned the glass, reached into his lap, and unzipped his fly.

Malek looked down as she slid her hand inside his pants, and his head bobbed as if he wasn't in full control of his reflexes. Her fingers encircled his impressively hard cock, which pulsed against her touch. He made a noise deep in his throat that sounded both like relief and pain, almost sad, as if he was on the verge of grief.

"You need me tonight, Malek." She leaned closer and stroked him, mistaking his moan as one of unspent need. "I'll take good care of you. And you can take good care of me." She drew her tongue up the side of his neck to his ear. "I like it rough. Very rough. And I hear that's how you give it."

He rolled his head toward her, and she stole a lingering kiss. One he didn't return, but no doubt only because he was so drunk. But that was okay. She didn't want him for his mouth. Well, maybe not entirely for his mouth.

"Home," he said. "I need to go home." He blinked heavily, his words slurred. "Gina. I need to go home."

Okay, so the guy couldn't get her name right. Gina. Lorena. It was a common mistake. But again, whether he remembered her name now or never, she didn't care. She had need of only one thing: his cock inside her and his hands around her throat as he gave her rough, hard, bruising sex that would leave her nearly broken and exhausted.

"Home it is," she said, pulling her hand out of his pants so she could zip him up. "Let's go."

Malek pushed past her and staggered as he stood up.

"Come on. I'll get us a cab." She hooked her arm around his and pressed in close.

Outside, she hailed a cab and maneuvered Malek into the back.

"Where to?" the cabbie asked.

"Home," Malek said.

"Like that helps." The cabbie rolled his eyes.

She looked at Malek, who only stared back as if she was some stranger. She couldn't take him to her place. She had too many items laying around that could incriminate her, and she couldn't risk letting an enforcer, even one as scrumptious as Malek, discover where her true allegiance lay. But he wasn't volunteering his address, so this could get tricky.

"I need an address," the cabbie said, sounding impatient.

"Hold on a sec," she told him, and began fishing around in Malek's pockets for his ID. Even vampires had to have ID to fit into the human world.

Once she found his wallet, she flipped it open and rattled off his address to the driver.

"If he pukes in my cab, he's going to pay the cleaning bill."

"He won't puke," she said, getting irritated with the guy. "Will you, baby?" She brushed her hand over Maleks' cheek, her gaze lingering on a partially healed gash that looked fresh. He must have been in a skirmish within the past hour. If the wound was older than that, it would have healed by now. Unless he was cranking a weakened system, which seemed possible enough with his gaunt, sallow features, now that she got a closer look.

Malek just stared at her then turned to look out the window.

"He won't puke," she said again to the driver. "Now, go." She was eager to get the party started with her prize.

The driver put the cab in gear and drove away from the club.

This was what she had been waiting for. A good dose of hardcore Malek. And now she was going to get it.