Tempted in the Night (29 page)

The baby perched awkwardly by his mother, and she made an effort to caress him with her tongue. She quickly fell back and the baby, perhaps sensing his mother was dying, licked her face instead.

It wasn't fair, Jess thought as a lump lodged in her throat. No child should have to grow up without his—or her—mother. Tears gathered in her eyes as she wondered if she'd made a mistake insisting that they deliver the baby. Its chances for survival without its mother weren't good, and from what little she'd learned from
Lanie
in their brief chat about Gem, it could be decades before this baby was big enough to fend for himself.

Just then, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere. Jess didn't know what it was until she looked down and saw that the mother had passed. Gradually, as with the male, her skin hardened and turned to stone.

The process took several minutes, but when it was complete the other
chupacabras
dispersed into the night, until only Harris's
chupacabra
and Diablo remained.

Jess stepped forward, resolute in her decision to take care of the baby, when John put out a hand to stop her.

"What?" she
asked,
confused.

"I know you wanted to take care of him, but it seems there's another option." He gestured to Harris's
chupacabra
. "This is Lucy. You may have seen her before with Harris, but what you might not know is that this is also Gem's mother. Harris told me that she was forced to give up Gem before she'd finished raising her, and I think she might like having another baby to
raise
." He looked over at the alpha male. "Diablo will protect him."

When she didn't say anything, he went on. "I know you want to do what's best for the baby, Jess, and I think this is it. Let them care for him. You couldn't have taken him back to
England
, and if you buy that manor and move here, well, then you'll be able to see him every day."

She didn't like it, but she didn't argue because deep down inside, she knew he was right.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go home." He put his hand at the small of her back and guided her out of the cemetery.

Neither spoke much as they walked. Jess didn't know if John's silence was because he was mad at her for forcing the birth or because, with dawn rapidly approaching, he was tired.

"Are you hungry?" she asked once they reached the mansion. "I could make us something to eat." She wasn't hungry herself, so when he refused her offer, she didn't push.

Together, they went inside and climbed the stairs.

"Good night, Jess."

"Good night." She felt unexpectedly disappointed when he headed straight for his room, though she couldn't blame him. She'd been totally sincere the night before when she'd told him that she wanted her first time to be with him. Every time she was near him, her body hummed in anticipation, and the more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to be with him—half-vampire or not.

What was really bad was that she thought her feelings for him might be more than just physical attraction, and now she'd never get to find out because she'd pushed him away. She'd rejected him because of her own fears and doubts, not because of anything he'd done.

Tears of self-pity welled in her eyes and threatened to spill. Not wanting John to turn and see her crying, she ducked into the bathroom as she passed the open door.

"Jess?"

She hurried to shut the door, imagining him walking back toward her. "I'm in here. I… wanted to shower before going to my room."

"Oh. Okay."

She waited, barely breathing as she listened. She heard his footsteps continue down the hall, growing faint. After several seconds of quiet, she turned and started the shower water.

A few minutes later, she stood under a hot shower, letting the water pound her sore muscles even as it warmed her. It felt so good that she was tempted to stand there forever—or at least until she ran out of hot water. As a yawn stole over her, she reluctantly turned off the water and got out to dry off.

When she was ready to go back to her room, she wrapped the towel around her and opened the bathroom door. The hallway was empty and John's door was closed. He was probably already fast asleep, she thought.

Burying the disappointment, she went to her room and opened the door.

Her name, scrawled across the far wall in blood, was the first thing to jump out at her. Then the rest of the room came into focus. The sheets and mattress of the bed were sliced to shreds. Her clothes were scattered about the room, and the dresser drawers stood open with handfuls of her bras and panties spilling out. Even from where she stood, she saw a bloody handprint.
An image of Brody holding her clothes to his nose, as he had her jacket, flashed through her head.
Feeling sick, she had to look away. That was when she saw the small animal carcass at the base of the wall, tossed there after its blood had been used to write her name.

At that moment, the sheers over the window billowed as if someone stood behind them and fear, raw and primitive, took over. She screamed and raced from the room, straight into John's arms.
"Jess?
What's the matter?"

"He was here," she gasped, trying to catch her breath. "Brody was in my room."

He started for the door, but she held on to him. "No, don't go in there. He might still be there."

"I fucking hope so," he snarled as he pulled her arms from around his waist and pushed her toward his room. "Go inside and lock the door."

"No, John," she pleaded. "I don't want to be alone."

"I'll be right back." He pushed her into the room and she was left staring at the door when he pulled it closed after him.

Still wearing the towel, she wrapped her arms around herself, unable to move from the spot. Brady's single-minded pursuit of her was unlike anything she'd experienced before. If it had simply been a matter of him hunting her, she could have understood that. She'd hunted enough vampires to occasionally have one come after her, but this was different. If Brody ever caught her, she had no doubt that he'd kill her, but it was what he'd do to her first that terrified her. Brody was a twisted, demented creature.

She seemed to wait forever, in that one spot, but finally the door to the room opened and John walked in.

"You were supposed to lock this," he chastised her as she rushed forward and threw
herself
into his arms. They closed around her and held her tightly. "It's okay," he said, speaking into her hair as he dipped his head close to hers. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No." Her eyes were closed and she spoke into his chest because she didn't want to move. "But he was in my room."

"I know, that son of a bitch, but he's gone now. I checked everywhere. And he won't come back while the sun is up."

He held her for a long time before setting her away from him so he could look into her face. His heated gaze raked over her and she finally remembered that she was wearing only a towel.

"Let's get you some clothes," he offered, his voice sounding a little rough.

They both glanced in the direction of her room. "I'm not putting on anything that he's touched."

"No, no.
Of course not."
John sounded like he wasn't sure what to do. Then he walked over to his duffel bag, sitting on the floor by the dresser, and dug through the contents. Finally he pulled out one of his T-shirts. "Here, you can wear this," he said, handing it to her.

She took it and then waited for him to turn around so she could slip it on. "Thank you," she said when she was finished. "You can turn back around."

He did, but from the way he looked at her, she felt more exposed than she had a few minutes earlier wearing just the towel. He looked away, with effort it seemed, and crossed the room to the undisturbed bed. As she watched, he pulled back the covers. "You can sleep here tonight."

She moved to the side of the bed because he seemed to expect her to, but she was fairly certain she wouldn't be sleeping any time soon. Her nerves were strung tight and fear stole her dignity. "Will you stay with me?" When he seemed uncertain, she rushed on. "I don't want to be alone."

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

A feeling of complete mortification washed over her.
"Of course.
I'm sorry." She took a step back, knowing she was mumbling to fill the awkward silence. "I shouldn't have asked."

She backed away, so rattled that she couldn't seem to put two thoughts together.

"Jess—"

"No, please," she interrupted, holding up her hand to stop him. She gave a self-mocking half laugh. "This is rather embarrassing." She backed up a few more steps and he followed after her. She wanted to run away, but found that she'd backed up too far and the bed now blocked her escape.

"Jess—" He tried to speak again.

"No, really, I understand," she insisted, knowing she sounded bitter. She opened her mouth but snapped it shut again, not wanting to make an even bigger fool of herself.

"What do you think you understand?" John asked, standing before her so he filled her field of vision, his masculinity teasing her unfairly.

"That you're no longer interested because last night I"—she waved a hand, not knowing what the right word was—"I freaked out on you."

He nodded as if agreeing with her description. "You thought I was going to bite you."

"Yes." She breathed out the word in a rush, grateful that he seemed to understand.

"And that scared you."

"Yes."

"Because I'm half-vampire."

"Yes; no." She heaved a sigh. "Yes, but not for the reasons you think. When I was five, I saw my mother killed before my eyes by a vampire. He bit her neck and drained the life from her before coming to do the same to me. If Erik hadn't stopped him, I would have died, too. I still have nightmares about that night, and when I felt your fangs along my neck, I thought you might be getting ready to bite me, and after Brody's attack… I got scared."

"You're right to be scared," he told her solemnly. "But not because I might bite you. No matter how badly I might want to, I wouldn't. Not unless you told me it was okay. No, what you should be afraid of is how I feel about you." He rubbed his temple as if his head hurt. "When I'm with you, it's all I can do not to touch you. I want to hold you in my arms so bad, I ache with the need. Standing this close to you, knowing that you have on nothing but
my
shirt—it's killing me. I want to make love to you until we're too exhausted to move, and
then
I want to hold you while we both fall asleep."

His words left her breathless. Encouraged, she reached for him, but he stepped back quickly and her hand fell awkwardly to her side. Frustrated and confused, she looked at him for an explanation.

"Before we start anything, be sure you're willing to finish it because I don't want a repeat of last night. I don't think I could take it."

"I'm sure." Still holding his gaze, she pulled off her T-shirt and let it fall to the floor. "Make love to me, John."

"Damn it, Jess," he choked out in a strangled voice as he grabbed her to him. His mouth came down on hers with such powerful insistence that she instantly erupted into a raging inferno of need and desire.

He kissed her like he wanted to devour her, and she responded just as hungrily. Her arms snaked around his neck as she pressed her body against his. The fabric of his shirt and pants, scraping across sensitized skin, sent chills through her body.

She quickly lost all sense of time and place, aware only of the things John was doing to her; of the sensations he stirred within her. As she tried to ease the tension building deep inside, she was barely aware of John picking her up and laying her on the bed. He stripped off his clothes in a blur of movement, and before she had time to really notice she was alone, he was there with her, nude and fully aroused.

He kissed her again, and the emotional torrent inside her that had started to calm raged out of control once more. Then he stopped kissing her so he could use his mouth and tongue to lick a trail down her throat while his hand found and cupped her breast. He massaged its fullness and then, taking her hardened nipple between his thumb and finger, he rolled it. Sparks of pleasure shot straight through her and she squirmed, wanting more.

When he lowered his head and took her nipple into his mouth, she arched into him. Still it wasn't enough. She ground her hips against his erection until he groaned aloud.

He wedged his knees between her legs, opening them until he was positioned between them. The head of his shaft probed the tender flesh and she raised her hips, inviting him in.

"Now, John," she gasped, the tension inside her demanding what only he could give. "Oh, please," she cried. "I need you—now!"

He
plowed
into her. She was already wet, and the sensation of him filling her sent short spasms through her body. When he pulled out and slowly entered her again, she thought she'd die from the sheer pleasure of it, aware of his fullness sliding inside her swollen flesh. Their breathing came harder as his tempo increased, carrying them both closer to their release.