“No!” Val tried to pull away, but he didn’t let go. “You said you wouldn’t force me!”
Cade stopped dead, staring into her face. Squeezing his eyes shut, he visibly fought for control.
She watched, tense. If he lost that battle…
McKinnon straightened his shoulders and stepped back, releasing her as his face assumed cool, expressionless lines. “And I meant it.”
He pivoted like a soldier and walked into the bathroom. Val slumped, breathing hard from fear -- and though she hated to admit it, lingering arousal.
He came out a moment later with a couple of towels. Handing her one, he draped the other over his shoulder and picked up his slacks, reaching into a pocket for the handcuff key. She held out her wrists.
“You can have the bathroom. Go change out of those wet things while I dress out here.” He briskly unlocked the cuffs, his distant tone contrasting starkly with the lingering heat in his eyes.
Val nodded and walked on shaking legs to the suitcase he’d left on the bureau. As she bent, she saw his reflection in the mirror. He was staring at her butt, his gaze simmering and feral. A shiver skated her spine.
McKinnon met her eyes in the mirror.
“I guess the vampires-cast-no-reflection thing is another myth,” she said, trying for a less incendiary topic.
“So are a lot of the things you believe about us.” A muscle ticked in his square jaw. “I’m not a monster, Valerie. If I had been, I wouldn’t have stopped just now.”
He had a point. He had stopped -- and if she was honest with herself, he could have seduced her out of her fear. He definitely could have taken her by force. Yet he’d done neither.
So maybe… maybe she really was safe.
Or not.
Val bent her head to dig through the suitcase with trembling hands. The moment she found a T-shirt and a pair of sweats, she escaped to the safety of the bathroom.
Clutching her clothes, she collapsed against the door, breathing hard. She saw the shower curtain hanging half across the tub and shuddered, the temptation to hide out dying when it occurred to her Abigail might put in another appearance.
She was dressed and back in the bedroom in less than a minute.
McKinnon had put on a pair of nylon jogging shorts that didn’t do nearly enough to cover all that magnificent supernatural skin. Both muscled arms were lifted as he briskly toweled his hair dry. Val sat on the bed and tried not to watch the bunch and play of tempting brawn as he moved, but her rebellious eyes kept drifting in his direction.
When he finished and reached for the handcuffs he’d left lying on the bed, she stirred. “Please, McKinnon. Don’t. I don’t…” She stopped and swallowed. “Between one thing and… another, I’d really rather not be cuffed. I promise I won’t try to escape.”
He gave her a long, considering stare and nodded slowly. “All right.”
“Thank you.” She let her shoulders slump in relief, then climbed quickly between the covers and flipped them up to her chin. Acutely aware that he stood by the bed watching her, Val curled up on her side facing the window. The lined curtains were thick, but she could still see the morning light filtering through. She stared at the golden glow, her eyes burning with exhaustion. It’s daylight, she told herself. I’m safe. McKinnon promised. He didn’t handcuff me when he could have. He didn’t force me when he could have. And he didn’t seduce me. I’m safe.
At least from him. If only she was so sure about all the other supernatural critters who had it in for her…
The bed gave as he climbed in behind her. A strong arm looped around her waist and pulled her back against his body. His warmth enveloped her, and tense muscles loosened along her spine. He felt so damn familiar. Despite everything -- despite his lies, despite her own traumatic memories, a part of her persisted in seeing him as Cowboy, her Texas Ranger hero.
Thinking how illogical it was to feel such a sense of safety in a vampire’s arms, Val let her gritty eyes slip closed.
* * *
Officer Ken Bratton made his morning circuit through the Corrington Sleeper parking lot. Mostly it was a waste of time, but every once in a while, he’d find a car listed on the day’s hot sheet of stolen vehicles. Bad guys liked cheap hotels.
When he spotted the black Lexus in the line of ancient Toyotas and decrepit Fords, the car caught his eye because it was so thoroughly out of place. People who could afford vehicles like that didn’t stay at the Sleeper.
Bratton scooped the day’s Hot Sheet off the seat beside him. As he half-expected, he found the car’s license tag number listed among the others that cops were to watch out for. And the description matched -- a black 2020 Lexus.
Then he frowned. The car wasn’t listed as stolen, nor was he supposed to hold the driver for questioning. Instead, anybody who spotted the Lexus was directed to call dispatch, which was in turn ordered to notify the N.Y.P.D. Which was definitely strange, since they had no jurisdiction way out here in Virginia.
But orders were orders. Bratton picked up his radio handset and made the call.
* * *
Cade lay on his side with Val curled against his body. Each time he drew in a breath, her scent flooded his head, rich with the faint, heady perfume of lingering arousal. He tried to ignore it despite the marble-hard cock resting against her sweetly muscled bottom. The Hunger was awake and prowling, prodding him to roll her onto her back and finish the seduction he’d started.
Forget it, he told himself sternly. He’d sworn to leave her alone, and he damn well wouldn’t violate her trust. Particularly considering it was astonishing that she’d trust him at all.
The fact that she slept so peacefully in his arms suddenly struck him as a rare gift. Lying there listening to her heartbeat, Cade slowly relaxed into a strange, fragile sense of peace. He knew reality would be back soon enough, but that only made him more determined to enjoy this moment. Savoring it, he drew her close against him, settled his erection against her backside, and felt the tension drain from his body.
* * *
Heat kissed Val’s face. She heard a pop and crackle and smelled the autumn scent of wood smoke riding the wind. Dragging her eyes open, she saw a campfire a few feet away, licking at the darkness from a ring of uneven stones. Dazed, she lifted her head and looked around. Moonlight painted a landscape out of a John Ford movie -- high cliffs clawing against the sky, sand, rocks, and mesquite, all of it desolate and coldly beautiful.
A chuffing noise startled her. Val turned to see a huge white horse standing a few feet away, shimmering and ghostly in the moonlight. The animal studied her with eyes that reflected the campfire, glowing eerily green.
Across the fire from her, a man lay on a bedroll, his long legs crossed in a pair of Levi’s, a white shirt straining over the powerful curves of his chest. The star of a Texas Ranger, handmade from a silver coin, gleamed against the darkness of his leather vest.
Then, with a dream’s sudden illogic, the shirt was gone, leaving nothing but the vest covering his muscled torso. Val, submerged in sleep, silently approved.
He lifted a gloved hand and pushed up the brim of his white Stetson. His eyes, black in the firelight, studied her and began to burn with masculine arousal.
Blinking, Val realized she was wearing a filmy modern negligee, lacy and thin as a whisper. Her nipples were tight pink points under the delicate fabric, and they ached, as if begging for Cowboy’s mouth.
She shifted her legs as heat gathered between them. She was wearing a tiny pair of lace panties, but as she looked at them, they too disappeared, revealing auburn curls. Val jerked her eyes up, one hand shooting down to cover her vulnerable sex.
“You don’t have to hide from me. Not here.” He rolled off the bedroll and began to crawl toward her on his hands and knees, powerful muscle bunching in his biceps and shoulders as he moved. The brim of his hat cast his face into shadow, but she saw the glitter of his eyes, watching her from beneath it.
“This is dangerous,” she told him.
“It’s a dream, just like all the others. What can it hurt?”
“But I know you’re real now. And you’re a vampire. I shouldn’t want you.”
“But you do.” He reared over her, the firelight outlining his broad shoulders in gold as he reached for her. “And it’s safe here. We might fear ourselves when we’re awake, but this is only a dream. Here I’m just Cowboy, and you’re just Valerie. No vampires. No Kith. No complications.”
He caught her face between his gloved hands. She took a deep breath and smelled warm leather and horse and man. His lips covered hers in gliding, silken temptation, and his tongue swirled into her mouth. He tasted of coffee and roasted meat -- and Cowboy. Her sweet dream lover.
Val relaxed and let his weight bear her backward into the bedroll. Instead of wool and rough cotton, it felt like a thick cushion of silk against her spine.
“I never liked making love on the ground,” Cowboy murmured against her lips. “It sounds more romantic than it is.”
She felt him settle over her, his arms circling her in hard male strength, the rough fabric of his denim-clad hips pressing between her legs as his long fingers took possession of her breasts. The supple leather of his gloves felt delicious as he pinched and stroked her nipples. When he rolled his hips, hot moisture flooded into her sex like cream.
“God,” he purred in her ear. “I love that smell.”
He tilted back his Stetson and lowered his head. She stared at the crown of his hat and quivered at the sensation of his tongue painting pleasure over her nipple through the thin lace of her nightgown. Big, gloved hands caressed and squeezed until she squirmed. His fingers swept down to the narrow indentation of her waist before stroking up the length of her thigh. The work-worn leather was warm, smooth against her skin.
Then he found the nest of damp curls between her legs. A leather-clad finger slid into her, and she writhed in voluptuous delight. When his teeth gently nibbled one erect nipple, the twin pleasures braided themselves together in her mind, each growing more lush in combination.
Suddenly the glove was gone, leaving his bare skin touching her. “Do you mind?” he whispered, lifting his head, his eyes shimmering in the shadow of his hat. “I wanted to feel you.”
“No,” she gasped. “No, I don’t mind.”
His thumb strummed her clit until rapture forced her to dig her nails into the tight ridges of his biceps to keep from screaming. His hard, flexing strength intoxicated her. She relaxed her desperate grip to brush her hands up the curving muscle of his arms to the contours of his powerful chest.
Two fingers thrust into her, eager and demanding. Val panted. Suddenly he pushed himself off her, but before she could murmur a protest, he moved down until his head was between her thighs.
His hands caught her legs and spread them wide. She felt the brim of his hat brush her skin just before his tongue began to lick, seeking out her most sensitive flesh and laving it with wet skill.
“God, Cowboy,” she groaned, just as she had so many times before. As he nibbled and sucked, his hands found her breasts again, caressing with such delicate skill she could only toss her head in pleasure. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted him. On top of her, in her. Now. She clawed at his bare shoulders. “Cowboy!”
He shoved himself upward, rising onto his knees. The jeans had disappeared, and he was naked except for the vest and the badge. His massive sex brushed against her thigh, a length of hot, velvet-sheathed steel eager for her clamping heat.
She licked her lips. “Awake, I’ve never had anyone the size of you.”
“Good,” he growled, and then he was inside her. His strength took her breath. He felt endless as he entered, slick and thick and delicious.
She groaned, arousal pouring through her in a molten rush.
His hips rolled between her thighs as he began to thrust in driving lunges. She hooked her legs over his muscled rump, curled her arms around his broad back, and held on to his bucking body.
As she threw her head back in pleasure, Cowboy lifted his own, and the moonlight shone full in his face under his hat. His mouth was open and gasping in pleasure. His fangs gleamed, white and sharp.
He started to lower his head toward her throat…
* * *
Val’s eyes snapped open. McKinnon lay on top of her, his massive body nestled between her thighs. His erection pressed against her sex, kept from entry only by her cotton sweats and his nylon shorts. For a moment she thought she was still dreaming, until she met his startled eyes in the daylight pouring in through the drawn curtains.
“First time I ever woke up from one of those dreams to find you actually here,” he said, slipping his arms around her, drawing her even closer. His cock rubbed against her with the movement. “This has possibilities.” Fangs gleamed in his roguish smile.
Val stared up at him. “You did that on purpose!” She shoved futility at his massive shoulders.
McKinnon sat back on his haunches and let her scramble away. “Actually, I didn’t. It just… happened.”
“Well, it had better not happen again. Stay the hell out of my dreams!” she snapped, before it occurred to her the threat had no teeth at all. He could do any damn thing he wanted to her, and there was no way she could stop him.
“Hey, it wasn’t intentional,” he protested. “Besides, half the time you’re the one coming into my dreams!”
He had a point, but she was damned if she’d admit it. “Whatever.” Val rolled out of bed. “I’m going to go get a shower.”
“You do that,” he growled, his eyes flicking to the curtained windows, which were beginning to darken noticeably. “It’s almost sunset anyway. We need to hit the road. I want to get out of here before Ridgemont comes calling.”
Val snatched a change of clothes out of her suitcase and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her with a satisfying bang. “Jerk.” She dragged off her shirt and shorts, then tossed them on top of the commode with her clean clothes before turning to give the shower tap a vicious twist. “Big, toothy, sexy jerk.”
She started to turn the hot water off completely, but she wasn’t that much a masochist. Setting the temp to lukewarm instead, she plunged under the needle spray and let it pound her over-sensitized body. Those damn dreams had always done this to her. And the effect was worse -- infinitely worse -- now that she knew Cowboy was real.
Her nipples were so swollen they felt like grapes. Slipping an exploring hand between her legs, she found she was as slick as whipped cream. So slick she couldn’t resist stroking her own desperate flesh. Letting her head drop back, Val bit her lip and plunged her fingers deep as she remembered the way he looked, naked and dripping, his heavy cock tilted upward slightly with the force of his hunger.
It crossed her mind to hope Abigail was nowhere around. Then she forgot everything else. She was so hot it barely took a moment to bring herself to a hard, rolling climax.
When she was finished, she hurriedly soaped her tingling body, bitterly ashamed of herself. He was a vampire, dammit.
Yet nobody but him had ever touched her like that. Maybe that’s why she’d never fallen in love with anyone else -- no mere human male could compete with Cowboy. And now that she knew he was real, how the hell was she supposed to keep her hands to herself?
Val grabbed the hot water tap and turned it all the way off, biting back a scream as needles of ice-cold water pounded her overheated body.
* * *
The war axe was a work of art, intricately engraved across its two-foot-wide blade with scenes of battle, its thick oak handle carved with runes. Half-hypnotized, Hirsch drew his thumb along the edge and watched a runnel of blood roll down from the cut. He hefted the weapon in his hand, feeling the weight, the perfect balance. It could cut through a man’s neck like a stick of butter.
Ridgemont had presented the weapon to him just before he’d left, with instructions to use it on the American.
The German closed his eyes, picturing the moment when he’d separate McKinnon from his head. The bastard’s blood would gush like a fountain, and Hirsch would bathe in it. He could almost taste it on his tongue, the sting and bite of a vampire’s life, so much sharper than the sweet copper of a woman’s.
And once he’d fed from Ridgemont’s precious gunslinger, there’d be Valerie Chase. Hirsch licked his lips and felt his cock swell.
A psychic flare of unease drew his attention to the muscular bald man sitting across from him. Giovanni Casale was a skilled and merciless killer. The former mob hit man was so renowned for the ice in his veins, Ridgemont had been impressed enough to recruit him. Yet there was fear on his face as he watched Hirsch now.
The German grinned in pleasure. He did so enjoy terrifying mortals.
“We’ll be landing in five,” the helicopter pilot said through his headset.
“Not too close to the motel,” Hirsch cautioned into his microphone. “I don’t want McKinnon to realize we’re coming for him.”
Ridgemont had gotten word of the fugitives’ location at the ungodly hour of three in the afternoon. Hirsch hadn’t appreciated being ordered from his cool bed and out into the stinging sunlight, but if the assault worked, it would be worth it.
Luckily both the limo and the helicopter’s cockpit windows had been polarized to block ultraviolet, so the trip had been tolerable. Now night had fallen just in time, and Hirsch was more than ready to kill McKinnon and take the girl.
He wondered if the American had ignored his scruples and fed on his captive. It would be even sweeter if he had. How it would torture the American to die knowing what would happen to her at Hirsch’s hands!
He couldn’t wait to fuck her. She had the kind of big tits and long-legged body he loved in his victims. Even better, he couldn’t compel her like a normal female, so she’d fight the way she had back at the parking garage. The thought made his dick strain against his zipper. It had been decades since he’d had to hold a woman down. Sometimes he let them struggle, but that wasn’t the same. The last time he’d really had to use force had been that French resistance fighter during the war. Screwing Valerie would be even better, especially if he did her while McKinnon was alive to watch.
Then he’d take her back to Ridgemont, along with the American’s severed head.
“While I take Cade, I want you to capture the girl. But don’t hurt her.” Hirsch smiled in hot anticipation. “I’ll take care of that.”
* * *
Valerie finally emerged from the bathroom just as Cade was considering going in after her. He’d already dressed, strapped on his gun, and packed the car with the sword and the rest of their gear.
“Took you long enough,” he growled, trying to ignore the way her blue T-shirt and jeans showcased that mouth-watering figure. They’d better hit road before he laid her back on that bed and finished what that damn dream had started.
Catching her by the elbow, he opened the door. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover tonight, and we’re not doing it dawdling here.”
“What happens when we get where we’re going?” Val asked as he guided her under the overhang toward the car.
“To start with, I’ll --”
“Cade, it’s Hirsch!” Abigail shouted into his mind.
Shit! He shoved Val behind him and drew his gun.
With a roar of triumph, the German plummeted down on him from the motel’s overhanging roof. Something metallic flashed at his head, but he snapped aside as Hirsch hit him with a teeth-jarring jolt. They slammed into the pavement so hard the impact knocked the gun from his hand. Cade fisted both hands into Hirsch’s shirt, kicked a foot into his belly, and sent him flying. Rolling to his feet, he silently cursed himself for letting the German take him off-guard.
“We’ll see who gets butchered now, American,” Hirsch snarled, leaping up with a huge battle axe in his hand. That flash of reflection Cade had seen must have been the blade barely missing his head.
Oh, hell, the sword’s in the back of the car! Cade scanned for the gun, didn’t see it, and braced himself to fight barehanded.
The big German moved toward him on the balls of his feet, the axe glittering in the cold light of the streetlamps. His smile was chilling. “This time I’ve got you, you sanctimonious prick.”
“Not even in your dreams, Gerhard.” But he wasn’t as confident as he tried to sound. He’d underestimated Hirsch badly. If he didn’t turn this around now, he was dead -- and Valerie would pay for his bad judgement.
* * *
Val hit the ground on her belly, desperately searching for McKinnon’s gun. She’d seen it slide under the Lexus. If she could find it, she was going to put a bullet in the German’s brain. She was damned if she’d stand around wringing her hands like a Victorian virgin.
It was pitch black under the car, but as she plastered her face against the cold pavement, she could see the silhouette of the pistol on the ground. She stretched out a hand so far, her shoulder joint protested. And just managed to touch the chill metal grip with her fingers.
Clawing at it, she worked the gun close enough to grab. The minute she got her fingers around it, she jumped to her feet and thumbed off the safety. A few months back she’d done some target shooting for a story, and her instructor had told her she was a natural shot. Now she’d find out whether he’d just been flattering her.
Val stole a glance at the two vampires just as Hirsch swung his axe at McKinnon’s belly. He leaped back to avoid being cut in two, then lunged inside the reach of the axe and grabbed Hirsch’s forearm. His momentum slammed him against the bigger vampire’s chest, and the two surged against one another as they struggled for the weapon in an intimidating display of muscle and effort.
Val set her feet apart the way she’d been taught and raised the gun to take aim at the German’s back. Her stomach pitched at the thought of shooting anybody, even such a monster, but she gritted her teeth and steadied her aim. She couldn’t let him kill McKinnon.
“I wouldn’t,” a strange voice said. Something cold pressed against the back of her neck.
The muzzle of a gun.
“Drop it,” the gunman ordered.
Shit, she thought, Hirsch brought reinforcements.
The good news was that it wasn’t Ridgemont, judging by the lack of the English accent. Which meant he was a flunky. And that meant she had a chance.
“I said drop it!” the man barked. “Or I’ll blow your little red head right off.”
Every trace of spit left Val’s mouth, but she didn’t put down the gun. “You won’t shoot me.”
He laughed, the sound so nasty she felt a chill crawl her spine. “A lot of dead people could tell you different.”
“But Ridgemont didn’t need them alive.” Val began to turn, trying to ignore the icy pressure of the muzzle scraping against her head with the movement. “And he would be very, very unhappy if you killed me.”
She almost thought better of her plan when she got a good look at the gunman. He wasn’t a big man, but his navy windbreaker stretched over a barrel chest. His head was shaved smooth as a bowling ball, and he had a face like a hatchet, set with little brown eyes as cold and flat as black ice.
Val got the feeling he considered murder on a par with brushing his teeth. I’m lucky he’d let me turn around without pulling the trigger. Taking the biggest chance of her life, she pointed McKinnon’s gun at him. Amazingly, the weapon didn’t shake in her hands. “I don’t think you want to make Ridgemont unhappy.” He’d better not, she thought grimily. Or I’m dead.
Those tiny black eyes flicked down to the weapon’s nine-millimeter muzzle, then back to her face. “Thing is, letting you go would really piss him off. And I don’t think you’ll shoot me.” The flunky’s left hand swung up and around, grabbing for her pistol.
Val fired.
He fell back with a howl. She watched him hit the ground, her ears ringing from the gun’s rolling boom. Smoke curled around the weapon in her hand, smelling like the Fourth of July.
“Bitch bitch BITCH!” The gunman writhed on the pavement, one hand clamping high on his shoulder. She’d realized at the last second that she couldn’t kill him and aimed to wound. “You little whore! I’m going to shove that gun up your cunt and pull the trigger.” Rabid black eyes locked on hers, he struggled to rise.
Oh, hell. She hadn’t hurt him badly enough to stop him. And if Hirsch had put a compulsion on him… Staring into that beefy, deadly face, Val realized the only way to stop the gunman was to blow his brains out -- and she’d already learned she couldn’t do that. Cursing herself, she whirled and fled.
“You’d better run, bitch!” His feet scraped on the pavement as he staggered to his feet and started after her.
Putting her head down, Val poured on the speed. If she could get away from this bastard, she wouldn’t stop until she got to Beth.