“Why particularly not now?”
I forced myself to stay calm and answer her question rationally. “Because I look like a monster—a vampire. It frightens people. If they lock me up, they just might throw away the key.” The next words came tumbling out as if of their own volition. “And when the money is gone, they’ll send me to the state.”
She didn’t argue the point. She was too honest for that. In fact, she was honest enough to admit I had reason to be afraid. “But can you be sure they won’t lock you up anyway? If you’re really as frightening as you claim, what’s to keep the authorities from treating you like any other monster?”
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And that was freaking terrifying.
When I didn’t answer, she let it go, not pushing further. “It’s your choice. But I worry for you, Celia.”
“You and me both.”
She sighed. “Just think about it, okay? In the meantime, try one of these.”
I wrote the names and phone numbers she gave me on the back of an envelope. We didn’t talk too much after that. There was an awkwardness between us that hadn’t been there before, as if the wall of professionalism had gotten taller and thicker after she retired. It made me a little bit sad. Still, I thanked her, and promised I’d set an appointment with somebody.
I kept checking my mirror as I drove around town doing my errands. I’d half-expected to find Dee and Dum following me, but there was no sign of them—or they were good enough that I couldn’t catch them. Unsettling thought, that. Still, I pretended it didn’t bother me and went about my business. By the time I let myself into Bruno’s hotel suite I had accomplished quite a lot, but none of it was earth-shattering.
As I opened the door, I could faintly hear the sound of running water and Bruno’s spirited rendition of “Copacabana.” I shook my head, smiling. Some things never change. At one point or another all six of Mama DeLuca’s boys had been called on to sing at their uncle Sal’s lounge. But only Bruno really took to it. He has a great voice and an honest love of songs I consider just too cheesy.
“It’s me,” I called out, even though I was pretty sure he already knew. “And I brought Chinese.” I’d called in the order and used the drive-up so as not to scare anyone.
I heard the water shut off. “Bless you, woman, I’m starving.”
He was always “starving.” Only the fact that he had the metabolism of a chipmunk on speed kept him from becoming as wide as he was tall. I’d chosen Chinese because it’s the one type of ethnic food I don’t like. Something about the smell, I think. Or maybe the look of it just turns me off. But I could bring him Chinese food and not get aggravated at having to suck down yet another shake.
I glanced around the room. It was nice but nothing fancy. Standard pair of double beds, one recently used, a large window with blackout curtains, nice dark wood table and chairs, with a matching armoire to house the television and store clothing. I pulled a chair away from the table and sat down just as Bruno ducked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and a smile.
I stared.
Hell, I’d dare any red-blooded heterosexual woman not to.
I mean, the man looked fine. Oh, there were a few more scars and gray hairs, but there wasn’t an ounce of excess fat on that body. In fact, he was in better shape than when we’d been together. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, and muscled legs all said he still ran stairs, like he used to run bleachers in school.
He laughed and his smile widened to the wicked grin I remembered so well. “We don’t have time,” he teased.
“No, we don’t,” I agreed, but I couldn’t help feeling that it was a damned shame, and I didn’t look away. Still, there was real regret in my voice when I said, “And we probably wouldn’t do it even if there was.”
“Don’t bet on that.” He grabbed the sack of food from my hand and reached into it to pull out an egg roll. This, of course, left the towel held together with only a loose little half-knot. One little tug … He gave me a wink. “I mean, I’ve only just recovered from the last time.”
I blushed. I couldn’t help it. With him standing there, like that, the memory of last time was just too fresh.
He laughed again, a sound of pure delight. “God, I’ve missed you, Celia.” He leaned over, giving me a gentle kiss that tasted like egg roll and him. Combined with the gentle caress of his hand down the side of my face, it set things in motion all over my body. “I know all the reasons it didn’t work. But I do miss you.”
“I miss you, too.” I felt a little pang of sorrow admitting it out loud. I’d loved him so much, wanted it to work so badly. Even though we’d both tried, it just hadn’t. But even at our worst the sex had been spectacular, and athletic enough that we’d actually broken the frame of his bed.
He leaned forward and kissed me again, this time with more … enthusiasm. He even managed to French-kiss me without stabbing himself on my fangs. He pulled me to my feet and I let him. Smooth muscles pulled me tight against him until I groaned. Then his mouth was on my neck, nipping and kissing until I felt tension in places I hadn’t felt in a long time. His hands moved up and down my body with practiced ease, remembering the curves and hot spots that made my knees weak without even trying. I couldn’t help but glide my fingers over his still-damp back. I was sorely tempted to pull away the towel and pull him onto the floor on top of me. To hell with the vampire or the Feds or anything else. I missed feeling like this. Missed him.
He moaned then, apparently thinking the same thing, because his hands found their way under my shirt and began to tingle my breasts and parts lower with that old, familiar magic. Even before, he’d been able to use magic during sex to make things feel … better. Now it wasn’t just better, it was amazing. My muscles began to ache with need, and the flush of early embarrassment had turned to heat of a whole different kind.
The sensations were scary amazing, and he realized it, too. Gentle caresses turned desperate and demanding, our hands clutching at any hint of bare skin. It happened so fast I couldn’t catch my breath and I realized we were a ticking time bomb. If we didn’t stop soon, a lot of things were going to happen—some we’d probably regret. But only some.
He pulled back from the kiss, his pupils fully dilated and his breathing harsh. A full-out shudder wracked his body and his hands clenched into fists, as though struggling against his better judgment to reach for me again.
I knew the feeling.
“I’d better go get dressed.” As he stepped back, out of reach, I noticed that the towel was tenting out from his body.
“Either that or take a cold shower,” I called after his rapidly retreating form. I didn’t hear his response, but I was willing to bet it was profane. Frankly, I could use a cold shower myself. My lips were still tingling from both residual magic and sheer body heat. Damn, he was going to be a tough man to ignore while he was in town.
I was still shivering when I crossed the room to sit at the table by the balcony. The late-afternoon sun glimmered through the metallic fabric of the full-length sheers. I pulled out the nearest chair, setting it in the shadows just past the edge of the light, and settled myself in comfortably to wait. The same magazine I’d purchased earlier was sitting on the polished wood surface of the table. I stared at the cover, trying to figure out exactly what was bothering me about the picture.
Obviously I felt sorry for the fiancée. I mean, if the real prince was anything at all like the fake, he was a complete scumbag. But there she sat, at a long table in an elaborately decorated room, facing the throng of press. She was seated between the prince and a sour-looking old man in traditional garb who could only be her father.
Arrayed at an angle behind them on either side of a pair of national flags were what appeared to be military-issue bodyguards, all large, all male. There was nary a smile to be seen in the group. Damn it, what was it about this picture? I tried to bludgeon my brain into giving up the information, but it just wouldn’t. Maybe if I read the article.
I started to flip through the magazine and had just reached the page I wanted when Bruno stepped into the room, fully dressed. “Okay, let’s go. Daylight’s burning.”
We got back to PharMart as the sun was sinking in the western sky.
Bruno and I had run through one of the chain roast beef restaurants. He had the French—I had the dip. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but we’d had to do something. The sun was starting to sink toward the western horizon and I could feel my body starting to tense. Everything was so intense. I could hear heartbeats. Scent sweat and fear in ways that I would never have believed possible.
“Are you going to be able to do this?” Bruno’s voice was gentle, but he wouldn’t look at me, deliberately pretending that pulling the rental car into a parking spot in the nearly empty PharMart lot took every bit of his attention.
“I’m fine.” I was … mostly. My skin wasn’t glowing and my vision hadn’t gone into hyperfocus. But I did wonder if I would’ve had a repeat of last night if I hadn’t eaten. Would every sunset be a battle? Scary thought, and one I refused to dwell on. For now, there were vampires to slay. Matteo was already there, had done his meditation and was ready to go. We didn’t know when, or if, the bat would show up. So we needed to be ready.
Matteo tapped on the window. If he was nervous, I couldn’t tell. His expression was serious, even grim, but that was it.
“I called the order. They confirmed I won’t get any backup from my fellow priests.” He sighed. “They admit the vampire is a serious threat, but our resources are stretched very thin here on the West Coast.” He made it sound matter-of-fact, but I was shocked. It’s a big order, with a lot of resources. They couldn’t even spare one monk? That made no sense. Unless … “It isn’t just one minor demon anymore, is it?” I spoke softly, mainly because I was scared. I might not remember everything from college, but the chapters on demonology were gruesome enough to be unforgettably etched in my mind.