Touch of Madness (16 page)

“Lewis Carlton is parked downstairs, Katie. What in the hell is going on?”

I shoved the newspaper and bag of cinnamon rolls into his hands as I passed by. He stared at me, openmouthed. I pretended not to notice, going into the kitchen and pouring myself a huge mug of steaming coffee. “It’s a long story. We may as well talk about it over breakfast.”

Tom turned slowly, his eyes following my every movement. “You’re actually going to tell me?”

Sighing, I turned, leaned my back against the kitchen cabinets and gave him the dirty look that comment deserved.

“I don’t want to screw things up with you, Tom. I just don’t know any other way to operate. But I’m trying really hard, so give me a break. Yes, I’m going to tell you.”

“Am I going to like it?” He pulled the apartment door closed and walked over to the kitchen island. He dropped both the newspaper and pastry bag onto the white tile surface before he pulled up the nearest stool.

“Hell no,” I admitted. “Even I don’t like it.” I took a long pull of coffee. It had cooled enough during the trip home that it was the perfect temperature. I let the taste rest on my tongue for a few seconds. The scent wafting from the cup was absolute heaven.

“So…spill.”

I did.

He stood there blinking stupidly long enough that I had time to pour myself another mug of coffee to drink while I waited for the inevitable explosion of recriminations. When I turned back, he was still silent, but his expression was determined. “What’s the plan?”

I probably blinked stupidly, just like he had. “Um…the short version? We find Amanda, try not to get killed, and save my brother.”

He gave a low growl, but not as if he really meant it.

I shrugged. “Seriously, I’d gotten as far as renting a car. After that, I don’t have a clue.”

“Fine, go online and rent a car from that place that’ll deliver. Then come upstairs. We’ll figure out the rest of it in the shower.”

I raised my brows in mock concern. “Tom, if we share the shower, I won’t be thinking about the plan.”

The smile he gave me as we headed upstairs was positively wolfish. Yay. He was out of his boxers in one swift movement. With him standing nude in front of me I couldn’t think. My heart sped up, beating like thunder within my chest. He was so beautiful. Handsome just didn’t do it justice. Every muscle was toned, his golden brown skin perfectly smooth. My hands sought his chest of their own accord. I lay my palms against his skin and felt his nipples tighten in response. The rest of his body responded as well, he grew firm, then hard as his erection grew.

His hands on my waist pulled me close against him so that his mouth could claim mine. His erection pressed against the front of my body. I felt every inch of it, wanted it all inside me. I let out an involuntary whimper that was swallowed up in the heat of Tom’s kiss. I deliberately trailed my hand down the length of his torso, my fingers barely skimming along that long expanse of hot smooth skin, until I could cup him in my hand, gently squeezing. He pulled back from the kiss with a groan, his head thrown back, his body shuddering. His cock jerked in my hand, and I moved my grip so that I could caress the head of it with the pad of my thumb.

“Katie—” Tom took my wrist in his hand, guiding my hand away. “If you don’t stop this, I won’t be able to last long enough to do you any good.” His voice was rough, as though he were having a hard time talking.

“You can’t even imagine the good this is doing me.” I gave him a knowing smile before moving my head to kiss the center of his chest. Ever so slowly, I kissed and licked my way downward, my tongue teasing his belly button before following the trail of hair that led downward. I knelt on the floor in front of him, using my hands to caress the softness of that most delicate skin before guiding him tenderly into my mouth.

He groaned, and I think if he hadn’t moved his hands to my shoulders he might have stumbled, his legs were that unsteady as I used my tongue and mouth to bring him pleasure until he came in a shuddering burst that sent his semen down my throat.

I pulled back slowly, letting the now soft flesh slide from my mouth. I looked up at him, and it pleased me to see the small shudders that ran through his body like aftershocks, his hands tightening on my shoulders in an almost bruising grip.

He opened his eyes, looking down at me, and I saw him lick lips gone dry. “That—” his voice was rough, hoarse from pleasure, “That was… amazing. You’ve never gone that far before. You’re amazing.”

“Thank you.” I rose to my feet and leaned forward to lay a gentle kiss on his lips. His laugh was a little shaky. “No, thank you.”

We stood there for a moment, not moving. I finally spoke. “I still do need a shower.”

“Right.” He stepped out of the way, so that I could close the shower curtain and start the water running at the perfect temperature. But when I tried to step back, he was behind me. His mouth moved to the base of my neck, the sensitive skin where neck meets shoulder. He bit me gently, and his breath against my throat brought my breath in a gasp. His left arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me tight against him. His flesh against mine was so warm. He held me gently, but though he held it in check I could feel his strength.

“Tom—” I turned my head slightly, intending to say something. I wasn’t sure what.

“Shhh.” He took my earlobe between his teeth, nibbling at it. He unfastened the fanny pack, stepping back to let it fall to the floor. When it was out of the way his right hand slid beneath the fabric of the shorts, between the soft cotton underwear and my skin. Fingers teasing at my hair, his hand moved between my legs, finding me warm, wet, and ready.

He traced the edges of my opening, flicking, teasing, but not entering me. I whimpered, and my knees wouldn’t have held me if it hadn’t been for the strong arm around my waist. My body writhed in response to his touch. “Please. Please.” The words were a hoarse whisper. But instead of thrusting fingers inside me, he pulled back. With both hands at my waist, he turned me to face him. In one harsh movement he pulled shorts and underwear down my legs. The knife clattered to the floor, forgotten, as I stepped out of the ring of fabric. He stood. Eyes locking with mine, he pulled the jacket from my shoulders. It fell to the floor next to the discarded shorts. All that was left of my clothes was the sports bra and the bandage on my knee. He made short work of both. When, at last, I was naked he stepped back. His eyes roamed the length of my nude body, the very look a caress.

“You are so beautiful.”

I wasn’t, or at least I didn’t think so. The scars that crisscrossed my body were angry and spoke of terrible things and lives lost. But I wanted to be beautiful, and I loved that he believed it to be true. He stepped forward, and I got ready for a kiss. But instead, he reached past me to pull back the shower curtain. “Get in.”

I climbed in. The shower massage was on, and the water beat at me with a pulsing rhythm that made my sensitized skin tighten. My nipples hardened, and I gave an involuntary shudder.

Tom climbed into the shower behind me.

He used a washcloth to clean the outside of my body very, very thoroughly, and later used his tongue to clean the spots the washcloth wouldn’t reach. He brought me to a screaming orgasm that was strong enough to roll my eyes back in my head and make my knees give way. I would’ve fallen except for the pair of strong hands that pressed my hips against the wall of the shower.

The water got cold before we finally got out. If phenomenal sex was my reward for keeping Tom informed, I was going to spill the beans more often. I just wouldn’t be able to help myself.

Tom dried off and dressed in some spare clothes he had lying around the apartment. It took me longer to get ready. I’d shampooed my hair, and combing out the tangles was an extensive project. To entertain me, distract me, and keep me from using language that would curl his hair, Tom brought the newspaper up and was sitting on the bed reading to me.

Most of the paper was dedicated to the plane crash. After looking at the pictures, I decided it was best if he didn’t give me details about it. He’d seen the destruction firsthand, so instead he was reading to me from an article buried in one of the back sections while I figured out what to wear. It was an in-depth article on Share the Planet. While it had since gone worldwide, the home office was based out of some teenager’s garage in a town too small to warrant a dot on most maps.

Tom talked to me from the doorway, well out of reach of the clothes I was flinging out of the hope chest as I searched for the neck brace I wear as protection from the vampires.

“Forney, Colorado, is on the Western Slope of the Rocky Mountains. Once the home of the Forney Miners, the high school was closed in 2005 due to declining enrollment, and the students are now bused to Bear Creek.”

The brace had sunk to the bottom of the chest. I ran my hands over the hard, acrylic surface, looking for any cracks or flaws. Made of two rigid pieces hinged together, it was made to go over my shoulders and around my neck and fasten shut with a small padlock. It’s heavy. It itches, and every time I hear that lock snick shut I get a little claustrophobic. The key was still in the padlock from the last time I’d worn the brace back in July. I opened the lock and pulled on the guard, pushing aside memories I didn’t want to deal with by listening to Tom’s lecture.

“Worldwide, Share the Planet has members from all age groups, but it has a particularly large base among those aged fifteen to twenty-one. This is due in no small part to active recruiting by the founder on the World Wide Web and in Internet chat rooms.”

I shifted the brace around, trying to get comfortable with the weight of it, then closed the hasp and set the lock. I slid the key into the front pocket of my jeans before reaching into the pile of clothes on the bed to retrieve a navy turtleneck sweater. I was pulling it over my head when there was a knock on the door. I sent a wisp of thought outward.

“It’s the rental company delivering the car,” I said.

“I’ll get it.” Tom dropped the newspaper onto the top of the dresser. “You finish getting ready.”

I’d selected business clothes for the day. They’re not as comfy as jeans, but people really do treat you differently when you are dressed for business than when you dress casually. I wasn’t sure who or what I’d be facing today, so it was better to be prepared.

The turtleneck I chose was dark brown. It hid the neck brace nicely, and had an added bonus of looking good with my coloring. I wore it over camel-colored business slacks and finished with a man-cut blazer and a pair of battered brown pumps that had low enough heels to run in. I would’ve preferred another pair of shoes, but the only other brown pair I owned had been ruined in the paint attack.

I took my wallet out of the fanny pack and tucked it into the blazer pocket. A quick minute to put on lipstick and a little blush, and I was ready to go downstairs. There were forms for me to sign, including the optional, additional insurance, credit card slip, and standard rental agreement. The nice man in the bright green jacket read off the terms in a bored, inflectionless voice as he passed the clipboard to me. When he’d finished his spiel the three of us went downstairs so I could make sure there wasn’t any preexisting damage to the car they’d be handing over the keys to. The dark blue rental sedan was parked at the meter directly in front of Carlton’s Lamborghini and suffered badly from the comparison. Still, it seemed to be a nice enough car; clean with a gray leather interior that still smelled new, and not so much as a ding on the painted finish of the doors. I was pleased to find out it was a front wheel drive model as the skies were darkening, and the temperature was dropping like a rock. It was days like this I really missed Edna, my old classic pickup. She could handle any weather and was made of real steel. She’d been stolen from the parking lot at the Shamrock Motel the night Monica Micah had tried to infest me and make me Thrall Queen of Denver. There’d been no sign of her since, and the insurance company had paid up. If I had been able to work I would’ve bought another vehicle after I had to sell the motorcycle—which was pretty worthless in the winter anyway. Instead, I had to use the money to live on. Even though I knew I’d probably never see Edna again, I kept hoping to find her. I know it’s not sensible, but I can’t seem to help it.

Unless I missed my guess we’d be getting snow some time this afternoon. I wasn’t sure how Carlton’s Lamborghini handled in bad weather, but if it had been mine I wouldn’t want to risk it. Then again, I probably would never have the courage to drive a car worth more than my building.

I reminded myself that it was not my problem. Ignoring Carlton’s look of disdain, I climbed into the driver’s seat of the rental. Tom apparently couldn’t resist a little bit of teasing. He slid his sunglasses to the tip of his nose. Eyes alight with mischief, he looked over the tops of the lenses at the man lounging against one of the fastest cars ever made and in total deadpan said: “Try to keep up.”

Carlton managed not to grin in return. Thrall hosts and werewolves are not supposed to do the buddy thing. “I’ll do my best.”

We started with the obvious, driving out to Dylan and Amanda’s house in the suburbs. It should have been easy to find, but it wasn’t. Whoever had been responsible for naming the streets in the suburb had been an idiot. There was an Elm Street, Elm Court, Elm Drive, and Elm Way. It was the same for every other common tree or shrub. I pitied the poor pizza deliverymen trying to drive through a covenanted community like this where each house was a cookiecutter image of the last and with street names as similar as the floor plans. We drove around in circles for nearly an hour before we finally pulled in front of the correct address. The house was vacant, with a For Sale sign in the lawn. Pulling the cell phone from my pocket, I dialed the number on the sign and was rewarded when a pleasant female voice answered on the third ring.

I lied, pretending an interest in a house that I wouldn’t buy if it were quite possibly the last residence on the planet. But my fibs at least earned me a kernel of information. Mrs. Shea was not available to answer questions, but the woman holding the power of attorney could. The real estate agent helpfully offered to take down my inquiries and pass them on to Ms. Ryan and get back to me with the answers.