Chapter Three

After the briefing and a quick stop in the kitchen for a snack, the entire team boarded Stealth Two, strapped in and prepared for take-off. They had state-of-the-art military grade aircraft well beyond anything you’d see in the movies, but Alaan still had to wait until they reached twenty thousand feet before he could turn on his MP3 player? It was driving him nuts. He needed something to do. Anything to get Tameth out of his system, even if only for a minute. He wasn’t a strong psychic like Bix or Carin, but damn it if the spillover of her excitement about this mission hadn’t seeped through his head and into his blood.

Randall’s voice cut through his thoughts and a thankful Alaan had to force himself not to shout for joy.

“I’ve turned off the fasten seatbelt sign. You may now move about the cabin and use your personal electronics.”

Oh, thank God! He unfolded his long body out of his seat, stood and stretched. An ice cold drink would do him good right now. Headed to the galley in the back of the huge, sleek plane, he passed by Slade and Alex in one of the six private compartments. They were each sprawled out on oversized bench seats covered with soft suede-like fabric. Their all-black garb blended into the furniture. A small glass table sat on the floor between them where Slade was about to make a very poor move on a black and white sculpted marble chess set.

Alaan stood in the doorway for a second and noted his inability to tell what either of them were feeling the way he could with Tameth. The thought tied his gut in a pulsing knot. Moving on, he spotted no one in the second compartment across from Alex and Slade, but Collins relaxed in the third space alone. Alaan’s keen ears picked up the smooth but risqué words oozing from the Scotsman as he spoke quietly into his cell phone. His freaky choice of phrases made it clear he spoke to his mate back home. A mate he was eager to return to after his mission was done.

Once at the galley, Alaan pushed aside the thick drapes at the entrance, stepped across the threshold and almost ran into Kenoe’s back. The man had his arms wrapped around a practically purring Tameth. Alaan could feel his cheeks burn as his temper flew out of control. His hands were stretching towards the other vamp’s neck when Kenoe turned around and said, “Oh, hey there, Alaan. Excuse me.”

And with that, the pale-haired, pasty-faced shrimp of a Seeker released Tameth and headed back towards the front of the plane.

Alaan watched him go, flexing his hands at his sides while trying to keep his feet planted to the spot. If he moved now, he’d be right behind Kenoe trying to rip his Hatsept head off for touching Tameth. Nobody should be touching Tameth, damn it. Nobody but…him?

He spun around and grimaced. The dreamy smile plastered across her pretty mouth rankled his nerves. Damned woman.

“Tameth, what the hell do you see in that pale-faced, skinny-assed, white-haired asshole?” Alaan fumed.

“Skinny-assed?” Now her temper flared in cadence with his. Not exactly what he was going for. “And why do you always call him skinny?”

She was kidding, right? The sharp angle of her brows didn’t say she was.

“The man is six feet tall, Alaan. That makes him as tall as me, you idiot. And while most Hatsepts are slim and athletically built, in case you hadn’t noticed, Kenoe is ripped, packed, and damned good-looking. As for the asshole part, may I remind you, my dear Alaan, that so-called asshole helped save both Carin and Bix when we were hunting Aleth Sidheon. He’s been invaluable in helping Carin develop new biological weapons to use against outlaws from the day he joined us.”

“I know what he’s done, damn it.” His words didn’t make sense to his own ears, but even though he snapped his mouth shut, the thoughts just kept rolling along. Kenoe didn’t deserve a woman like Tameth. Didn’t deserve to breathe the same air she did, let alone touch her. Hell, the thought of any other male coming within a hair’s breadth of this beautiful warrior made the backs of his eyeballs burn and his teeth throb. The realization was way too much to deal with right now. First let him get his fangs under control, then he’d deal with the surging tangle of emotions.

He almost had himself together, but noo-ho-ho-ho. Mizz Tameth had to go and mess it all up with just a few words.

“Not to mention Kenoe is a hell of a fighter, and not too bad a lover.”

Sure, Kenoe had been a good Seeker, and could more than handle himself in a fight. But Alaan’s brain zeroed in on that last word. The L-word. Lover?

 

 

“Lover? Did you say lover?” His voice was much too quiet and controlled for her taste. She’d known this particular prime male for a whole lot of years. Had worked with him. Fought with him. Even played poker with him. While his deep baritone voice was enough to make her pussy clench, take that same voice, add a growl and a quiet menace, and it became a volatile mix that made her more than a bit nervous. Not afraid, but definitely nervous.

Time slowed and it seemed as if Tameth stood and watched this happening to someone else. Alaan’s fingers slipped into her hair just underneath the tightly wound scrunchie holding her ponytail in place. When it became clear what his intentions were, Tameth tried to turn away but found her head plastered to a smooth curved wall. She couldn’t move it an inch in either direction. Well, no wonder—Alaan had his big hand wrapped firmly around the thick ponytail, holding her firmly to the spot. Pushing against his wide, heavily muscled chest did no good, not if she wanted to keep her hair in her scalp. Besides, the subtle play of tightening pecs felt good to her fingers.

Well, now what? She wouldn’t dare attempt a swift kick to the nuts. After all they weren’t actually fighting, not to mention her innate need to preserve the jewels connected to the impressive cock nudging against her groin. In seconds, curiosity and a slow thrum at the base of her womb overrode the desire to get loose.

If it had been anyone else, righteous indignation would have overridden sound judgment as she pounded the poor idiot into the floor. No vampire, no matter the clan, was foolish enough to touch any Clan Serati female uninvited. But this was Alaan.

So what? She was a woman from a matriarchal clan. She might not outrank Alaan in the law enforcement society of the Seekers, but being a female alone elevated her social status above every Serati male, including him, Clan Matriarch’s son or not.

Alaan’s sea blue eyes glinted dangerously, even in the dim lighting of the little alcove just inside the galley entrance. His platinum blond curls beckoned her hands, the silky stuff cut just short enough to bury her fingers in. They itched, fairly burned with the sudden urge to touch that hair, to touch him. Everywhere. The man towered over her, his body almost twice as wide as hers, packed with firm, solid muscle and the natural abilities born of a vampire. The raw power rolling off him was a spark of enticement. And she was dry tinder ready to be ignited.

Her breathing deepened without her permission and the full globes of her breasts, correction—now swelling breasts—wanted him to caress, stroke and knead them. A pulse of pleasure tickled the base of her spine and eased its way down to her plump lower lips. And he hadn’t done anything except grab her by the hair and push her up against the wall.

Oh boy, she was in trouble. Big, nasty, needy trouble.

Time seemed to slow when Alaan bent at the waist, gently pulled her head back to expose the pulse beating at her neck. His tongue left a wet trail from that sacred place up to the shell of her ear. The spark that was Alaan became a fanned flame held to the wick of dynamite threatening to blow her swelling clit out of its little protective cowl.

And then his lips were on hers. Plundering, taking, claiming. Oh, dear Lord, he was simply overwhelming. A deep groan reverberated up out of his chest and straight to where their mouths connected. The spine-tingling sound struck a chord in her belly and she answered with a moan of her own. His scent, the delicious taste of his mouth, the wall of man holding her pinned to the spot assaulted her senses. And all she could think of was more.

He released her mouth, whispered her name. Her knees trembled.

“Tameth.” The sound was desperate. Broken. Yet still uncertain. Hmmm—it was exactly how she felt. But she wanted those lips back, along with the insistent probing of his warm tongue that took, tasted. Tormented.

His hands had left her hair so one could blaze a teasing trail down her bare arm while the other slid up the ridges of her stomach, making her belly twist and jump. Higher, and higher still, he stopped just below her left breast. The nipple of the damned thing was so tightly puckered, Tameth half expected her breast to jump out of her tank top and into his waiting hand. God, she wanted him to touch her.

And she felt his need to do exactly that. But he fought it. His hands and mouth didn’t say so, but Tameth discerned that something deep inside of him wasn’t sure if he should run to her or from her. The growing connection between them flared when she grabbed him roughly by the head and pulled his mouth back to hers.

Maybe she could just die now, because Lord knew she didn’t have the will to come up for air. There’d never been a sensation like this in her life. Not in all her long years had she wanted a man as urgently and deeply as she wanted Alaan. And now that he’d finally touched her, it wasn’t nearly enough.

Thank goodness he had sense enough to push away. Tameth was so far gone she would have preferred to pass out than to stop kissing him, to push away enough to breathe. Besides, why breathe air when she could breathe Alaan?

Feminine satisfaction welled up when the man took a half step back and laid his forehead against hers. She sensed his amazement at the depth of arousal he was experiencing where she was concerned. For a split second Tameth wondered if he had the same awareness of her that she had of him.

Panting like two winded race horses after a quarter-mile sprint, they stood, gentling and easing each other with warm caresses and murmured words. Nonsense mostly, but who cared?

Tameth’s lips stung after the brutal kiss. His beautiful blond head rested on her shoulder now as they both fought to catch up to their pulses and get their breathing back under control. Her head spun dizzily and the deep call of his blood reached out, wrapped around her lungs and squeezed. She wanted him. And if his nuzzling the base of her neck whispering her name was any indication, he wanted her just as much.

Her bottom lip throbbed dully where he’d nipped her. Gently Alaan touched her lip with the tip of a long, slightly calloused finger. A drop of blood, her blood, stood out like a bright beacon of life against his fair skin. His tongue snaked out and slowly licked the drop away.

“Damn it, Tameth,” he sighed. “I just can’t do this. Not since Sher. Not since that day… Shit, I just can’t. It was wrong of me to kiss… I—Aw hell.”

Her mouth fell open as he turned and stalked away. The man was on the edge, barely leashed. His fight for control was evident in his gait, and in the ripple of rock hard quads flexing with each step.

Damn, he looked good in those jeans.

 

 

 

“Can I help you, sir?” Randall asked when Alaan stalked into the cockpit and plopped down in the seat next to him.

“No thanks, Randall. I’m all good.”

Alaan was grateful when the man didn’t press the point. He was still reeling from Kenoe’s comment in the aisle. The imp had stepped out of his private cabin, took one look at Alaan and said, as bold as you please, “Mmmm, she smells good on you.”

What the hell had he meant by that? Alaan scrubbed his hands over his eyes and sighed. Who was he kidding? He knew exactly what he’d meant. Besides, he could smell Tameth on his hands, on his shirt. The woman was everywhere and he couldn’t tell if it was because he’d held her, or because of this enhanced ability to scent her any-fucking-where.

Even up here in the cockpit cut off from the rest of the crew, her scent tickled his nose and sent a message to his balls to pull tight against his body. Perhaps he should go back to his compartment and change into something more loose-fitting? These jeans were too tight for his unruly cock.

“How long before we land, Randall?” The sooner the better. He couldn’t afford to ever touch her again, not if he hoped to stay sane and work side-by-side with her on this mission. The mansion, located outside of the city proper, was big enough to get lost in. Surely he could get a room far enough from Tameth to keep himself halfway under control?

A doubt niggled at the back of his mind and he wondered what it would be like to lose himself in a woman like Tameth. He ignored Randall’s questioning looks, put on the copilot headset and closed his eyes. Quieting the roiling thoughts that ran around his mind, Alaan reached out to Tameth. Then wished he hadn’t. It was so easy. So easy to touch her, to read her. And her emotions were all over the place. The woman, who’d always been the pillar of calm soundness, now flipped back and forth between pissed off and surprised, to finally land on hurt. Alaan felt like a heel. He’d done this to her. He’d made her feel rejected, less than adequate by kissing her as if he couldn’t live without her, then walking away as if she meant nothing.

With a deep sigh, he opened a secure channel and called down to the caretaker of the property they would borrow for this hunt. After informing the man of their arrival time and the sleeping arrangements, he disconnected the call and brooded.

There was no doubt in his mind now. Tameth was the one.

One of few women he could both mate and bond with.

Unbidden, the image of a bloody pile of flesh and bones intruded his thoughts. And with it came an ache, a dulling and less jarring ache, but an ache all the same. Sher. There hadn’t been much left of her after that damned Lowan finished with her. If it hadn’t been for the locket given to her by Alaan himself, it would have been next to impossible to identify her corpse at all. The woman was supposed to be his mate, and even after all these years, he still remembered what loving her felt like. But this strong bombardment of wild emotions and singing of his blood was beyond those feelings of long ago.

He hadn’t had the insane need to hoard Sher, to keep her from everyone else. Nor was there the strong need to bond with her psychically, thought-to-thought, mind-to-mind, heart-to-heart. No, this thing with Tameth called to him on practically a cellular level. He’d never been so close to losing himself in a woman from something as simple as a kiss. It was fucking nuts.

He thought about Bix and Carin and shook his head. One thing was sure—from this day forward, Alaan would definitely have more patience with Bix and his overprotective stance in regard to his woman.

When Bix had found Carin and discovered she was his bondmate, Alaan thought he knew what his best friend had been going through. He’d thought it was just a strong attraction. But now he realized that he hadn’t had a clue. How in the world had the man kept himself in check while Carin decided whether she would have him or not? When Carin had lain in a pool of her own blood close to death, how had Bix remained sane? Tameth was hale and whole, yet Alaan was still close to losing his grip on his common sense and wanted nothing more than to send her right back home and away from danger.

Humph. He’d be sure to give Bix an apology and a round of foot kissing now that he really understood the wild range of emotions his friend experienced during that trying time. Hell, if Bix asked, he’d strip naked, jump up on the dais and sing a country song at the next Council meeting just to prove he meant it.

Later that evening, after flying in under cover of darkness, Alaan fought back the need to cry. He hadn’t been this miserable since his fangs had grown in during puberty. But it wasn’t his tears gathered behind his eyes. They were Tameth’s. Her confusion and disappointment swirled around him, penetrated his long leather trench and settled into his skin like a thick mist after a spring rain. Damn, wasn’t there some switch he could flip to turn off this awareness of her? The barely controlled lust? The need to shelter and protect her? After all, it wasn’t about what he wanted to do. It was about what he had to do. And that was keep away from Tameth. Just the thought of something happening to her because of a relationship with him made him grit his teeth with a consuming combination of fear and blazing anger.

No, he couldn’t let it happen. Not to her. Not to anyone ever again.

Off the plane with their gear loaded into four large SUVs, they split up into teams of two, with a spare. Alaan rode alone. As if he had a choice…riiight. He could barely stand to be in the same room with Tameth. There was no way he was riding in an enclosed vehicle with her. Slade and Alex hardly ever parted. Kenoe and Collins both wore his patience to a thin line. Kenoe, because he was…well, Kenoe. And Collins with his stories of ancient battles past and constant yammering of Scotland this and Scotland that grated on his already shredded nerves. Randall seemed the only one capable of shutting the Scot up long enough to get a word in edgewise. That left Tameth to ride with Kenoe, the Hatsept ‘ho.

Fine, let her ride with that spindly-armed Hatsept. It was probably what she wanted anyway. Besides, Alaan was no fool. He knew how deeply she cared for Kenoe. They were always together, and it was no secret the two had a strong abiding affection for one another. So let them have at it.

After tuning the radio to a local classical station, Alaan ratcheted up the volume and forced himself to concentrate on the coming rogue hunt. From the intelligence he’d read regarding Lowan Hatsept-Shean and the goings-on in London, they didn’t want to be seen approaching their temporary headquarters. Once to the edge of the V.C.O.E. property, at his signal, all headlights were flicked off. Acute eyesight revealed a long drive that led up to a mansion he hadn’t had the pleasure of visiting since the Sidheon takedown. At the end of the quarter-mile driveway, the staff waited in the dark atop the wide stone stairs of an expansive porch.

Alaan pulled up to the edge of the grass across the drive and jumped out of his car. The second his feet touched the ground, he felt her. Tameth. Damn it.

Leaving everyone else behind, he tossed the keys to one of the housemen, grabbed his bags and strode across the pavement. He took the front steps in one bound.

“You made good time, sir. It is rather nice to see you, Master Alaan,” said Higgins, an older and very wise-looking vampire who’d been serving in this same building for as long as Alaan could remember. If there was anything he needed to know about this part of town, whether vampire or human-related, Higgins would know.

“Yes, Higgins. It’s been a long time.”

“We held dinner until you arrived. You can eat whenever you’re ready.”

Alaan didn’t think he could handle sitting at the table knowing Tameth was annoyed with him, upset because of him. For the first time in life, he was out of his element. And he was running. Ashamed, but running all the same.

“Thanks, Higgins. Just send a tray to my room. I’ll manage my own gear. Be in the second-floor office at eight tomorrow morning and we’ll go from there. Take care of the others, all right?”

“Very good, sir.”

“Thanks, Higgins. See you in the morning.”

“Good night, sir.”

“Good night.”

Alaan took one last look around and spotted Kenoe crossing the wide driveway with a pissed off Tameth by his side. They both stared daggers at him as he turned away and gave them his back. He cleared the foyer and flew up the staircase. The last thing he heard was Higgins’ efficient voice.

“Please leave your gear at the door and follow me to the dining room. When you have dined, we will show you to your rooms. Your things will be waiting for you and…”

And Tameth’s essence followed him all the way up the stairs and down the damned hallway like a specter of the night just waiting for a chance to knee him in the balls.