Die for love, p.3
Die for Love, page 3
Did his sire know he’d created this Slayer spawn?
He started to follow her, but the sharp warning of pure Slayer power beat at him in warning. A young male Slayer dropped down from a nearby rooftop to block the dhampir's passage.
After a short, heated exchange, the male jerked his thumb in the direction of the park. Both Slayers turned toward him. Busted.
Time to go.
Before they could get a bead on him, he fled in a burst of vampire speed.
***
Michaela's earlier pleasure at being almost home had been displaced by Adam's message and the disappearance of the vampire who had almost literally been on her doorstep.
She had not sensed the demon until Adam had pointed him out, probably because she had been too absorbed in her uneasy thoughts.
A similar moment of distraction had been partly responsible for the staking that had nearly killed her two months earlier.
Damn. Her involvement with so many vampires and humans had brought on a wealth of unwanted and confusing emotions. Those emotions and the inattention they created had gotten too risky. Better she start weeding out some of those attachments, along with the feelings that blurred her focus and endangered her existence. And she knew exactly which attachment should be at the top of the list.
But as she stepped into the bedroom where Jesus waited for her, it was impossible to fight her attraction to him, or the way he made her feel.
He was lying in bed, head buried in a book. He had on reading glasses, although he was too young to really need them. They just reduced the strain on his eyes from the many hours he spent on paperwork in his job as the ADIC for the local FBI office.
However, the physique that greeted her did not belong to someone who solely pushed paper. His big body was rock hard and bore the scars of someone who had served his country with his whole heart and soul. He’d been shot both as a soldier and an FBI Agent, and that scared her. To think she might have lost him before she ever met him...that she might still lose him.
Her heart did a little skitter as he pulled off the glasses and set them aside together with the papers. He gave her a grin, boyish and unrestrained, as she walked toward him and sat on the edge of the bed.
Then his eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?”
No sense denying it. He could always tell when she was upset. “I went to see Diana. She seems to be in good spirits.”
“She is. She's strong, like you,” he said, and laid a big hand at the crook of her neck and shoulder. The weight of his touch was comforting, soothing some of the unrest within her.
“I was about to come in when a Slayer messenger caught me at the door. I hadn't sensed him—or a vampire who was lurking in the park.”
His gaze skipped over her, no doubt searching for signs of a fight. “But you're okay, right?”
She offered him a guarded smile and laid her hand on his chest, needing the connection to the powerful beat of his heart, and his warm, smooth skin.
“The Council wants to see me tomorrow. They've finally decided what my punishment should be.” She had expected they would sanction her—issue a death edict—months earlier when she had failed to protect Benjamin, one of the elders. But they hadn't. They couldn't really, now that she thought about it. They had lost a second elder that same day, and along with being down two members on the Council, that second elder had also disregarded a strict Council law. Her disobedience had resulted in her own death as well as Benjamin's. Not to mention more than one unsanctioned vampire slaying. The Council had been in too much turmoil back then to sanction her, but things were different now.
“You're worried they'll issue a call for your death.” He slipped his hand around her neck and pulled her to lie along his body, then wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tight.
“They might,” she said, pillowing her head on his broad chest. Peace and security enveloped her, despite her fears.
Was this what being in love did? Was this feeling of well being why so many sought love so eagerly? She had accidentally stumbled across it. Hell, she wasn't even sure if it was real.
“I won't let anything happen to you,” her lover said, and rubbed his hand up and down her back.
She propped up her head on her hand. “You think you can stop them? They're the Council of Slayer elders.”
He shrugged, the muscles in his shoulders and arms rippling enticingly. “I've got a badge and a gun. And lots of friends with guns. For that matter, lots of friends with fangs. Fur. I'll gladly take on the Council to keep you safe.”
She examined his expression, which had gone hard with determination. He would protect her...but she refused to have his blood on her hands. To cut off the uncomfortable discussion, she said, “It won't come to that.”
***
But Jesus knew it might, and he intended to be prepared.
For now he could give her peace of mind and lots of love, two things she had always lacked in her life.
He pushed up on one elbow until his lips were a scant inch from hers and the warmth of her breath spilled against them. “I'm not sleepy. Are you?”
She smiled and wagged her head playfully. “Actually, I am. I'm so tired I can't even get my clothes off.” With a pretend pout, she rolled off him onto her back, then closed her eyes and lay there, her body relaxed and loose.
“I can definitely help with that,” he assured her. He started at her feet, pulling off the supple leather boots he had bought to replace the ones stained with her and Benjamin's blood. Her socks quickly followed, and he bent to drop a kiss at each ankle, making her squirm and giggle.
“Not fair. You know I'm ticklish there.”
“And here I thought you were too tired to move.” He unbuckled the thick leather belt around her narrow waist, unzipped her jeans, and in one smooth motion, pulled them off her legs.
She was naked beneath, and as she parted her legs slightly to expose her flushed lips, he nearly came at the sight of the precisely trimmed dark curls at her center. Sucking in a deep breath to control himself, he grasped her thighs and caressed the smooth skin, urging them apart to accommodate his large frame.
He kissed one ankle again, then moved slightly higher on the other leg, back and forth, kissing his way up to her center. He nuzzled the short, crisp curls before tasting her with the tip of his tongue.
She shook and called out his name, then cradled the back of his head to urge him forward.
He obeyed, eager for a greater taste. Licking and sucking at the sensitive nub, he dragged a harsh breath from her. Her muscles were already trembling, but he had only just begun.
Bringing one hand around, he slid his thumb along her damp, warm cleft, pausing to spread the wet across her. Dipping his tongue down to taste her sweetness, he was driven by her soft cries of pleasure and the upward thrust of her hips, seeking fulfillment.
His cock jerked in anticipation as he imagined the feel of her moist heat surrounding him. Of her powerful muscles, milking him.
He groaned, trapped by the passion, wanting release so badly, but wanting her to experience the pleasure first.
Kissing her clit again, he eased his thumb inside her and pressed with his hand, increasing the tension, shifting in and out. He slid two other fingers into her and pumped as he slid his body higher, kissing every inch of flesh as the friction dragged her T-shirt up.
She surged against his hand.
“Oh, God. I don’t know if I can— Oh, J, I want you so much. I need you inside me,” she pleaded. “Need to feel your skin against mine.”
With trembling fingers, she yanked at the hem of her shirt and managed to jerk it off, baring herself to him.
He groaned. She was so insanely beautiful.
He pushed off the bed with one hand to drink in the gorgeous sight of her, and his gaze dipped unwillingly to the angry scar on her midsection. Instantly, guilt assailed him. Before he could stop himself, he splayed his hand there and whispered, “Love. I wish I could have—”
She covered his lips with her hand, the slight rasp of her palm reminding him she was no ordinary woman. She was a fighter, and this was part of her being as much as the scars he bore. As though she were reading his thoughts, she moved her hand to his shoulder and the star-shaped scar from an old bullet wound—one of several puckering his skin.
“I wish that too, J. But that's not who we are. Neither of us.”
She was right. Which only made time like this, tenderness like this, all the more priceless.
He wanted to say he loved her, but it was too soon. It might never be the right time for those words. He was still so unsure of their relationship, of her feelings for him.
So he showed her how much she meant to him with his hands and his mouth, and with his body as he thrust his thick length inside her and her body shuddered beneath him.
He bent and kissed the tips of her full breasts, sucking the hard nubs into his mouth. Teething them until she shook and cried out. She raised her knees to deepen his penetration as he finally moved his hips, driving in and out of her. Building her passion. Her welcoming moans and the caress of her hands along his body urging him on.
He came in a burst, the pleasure explosive, driving the air from his lungs as his climax crashed over him.
***
J’s body went stiff above Michaela just as she was on the edge herself. But a second later, he was moving in her again, driving her upward, the pull of his mouth on her breasts powerful. The shove of his hips strong as passion coalesced in her and she thrust her hips upward, accepting his final, commanding thrusts as they tore her release from her.
She cried out and grabbed his shoulders, shattered by the passion. “Oh, my God, J.”
“I'm here, Michaela. I'll always be here for you,” he murmured against her lips as he braced his elbows beside her head, keeping the weight of his body from crushing her.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him back down to her, needing the feel of him over her, enveloping her. Filling her as no man had ever done before.
“I won't break,” she whispered, and kissed him.
He relaxed against her, the heat of his body warming her, and suffusing her with a tangle of emotions as passion ebbed and comfort filled the empty spaces in her soul.
They lay there for long moments. Touching. Kissing. Savoring. Until he slipped from within her and rolled to her side. But even then he didn't leave her entirely. He tucked the covers over both of them and pulled her close.
She went willingly, loath for the closeness to end. Her mind was full of confusion over them and what this all meant. And also over the prospect of tomorrow's Council meeting and what might happen...
Close to her ear, he whispered, “Don't think so much.”
She glanced at him hopelessly, afraid to think, terrified not to. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Feel,” he said. He bent his head and took her nipple into his mouth again, the benediction of his mouth tender. He was so loving she nearly came apart again.
“Feel,” he urged, and he plucked and tweaked her other breast, starting a battle she knew she could not win. Nor did she want to.
She held his head in her hands and with a strangled sigh, freed herself to his loving once again.
Chapter Five
“Haven't you had breakfast?” Diana asked as Jesus snagged one of the home fries from the takeout dish he had just brought her from her favorite deli. Being confined to a hospital bed meant a severely limited menu, so she frowned at the thievery. She and her boss had shared many a meal together at work, and Jesus had stolen his share of her fries, but usually not before she had eaten her fill.
With a shrug, he pulled out a foil-wrapped sandwich and said, “Michaela's not much of a cook.”
“Yeah, I can tell you're just wasting away,” she drawled, and dug into her Greek omelet with a moan of pleasure. “Mmm.”
He set his sandwich on her hospital tray table and unwrapped his own breakfast. With a very male grunt of satisfaction, he said, “I can see I won't get any sympathy on that front. What about that file that I left you?”
“My notes are tucked inside the folder. Seems pretty cut and dried to me.”
“Me too, but I didn't want to take any chances.”
The guilt woven into his tone communicated volumes. She forked up more of the omelet and said, “What happened to me and David on the last assignment had nothing to do with your decisions. I hope you know that.”
Jesus shook his head and around a mouthful of ham, egg, cheese, and muffin, then said, “Bullshit. I should have foreseen the possibility that our suspect would escape near your position.”
“Wouldn’t have mattered. Nothing bad came of it. In fact, David is back on his feet thanks to his first werewolf transformation.”
Literally. It was pretty much a miracle. Her FBI partner, David Harris, had been paralyzed from the waist down for several years due to a severe injury during a raid gone wrong. But while pursuing their latest case, he and his fiancée—Diana’s best friend, Maggie—had both been bitten by a werewolf and were currently undergoing massive changes in their bodies. One amazing side effect of shapeshifting was that David’s injuries had been totally healed during the transformation, and he was now able to walk again.
“You could have lost the baby,” Jesus said with a pointed look at her rounded belly, bringing her back to the present.
“Yeah, but I didn't. And don't feel guilty about my hospital stay, because I would have been in here anyway for those damn tests.”
Tests that had turned out badly, Jesus knew, so he changed the subject to another issue that was troubling him. “What do you know about the Council of Slayer elders?”
Diana’s brows went up. “Other than that they exist and are ruthless, not much. Is something going on with them?”
He gave a short sharp nod. “Michaela has a meeting with them later this afternoon to learn about her punishment for failing to protect Benjamin.”
“Seems to me it was their own Council member who put both her and Benjamin in harm's way.” Diana jabbed at the fries, speared one, and chewed it with a frown. “She's not going alone, is she?”
“Not if I can help it,” he said. He bit off the last of the sandwich and wiped his hands with a napkin.
“In manspeak, I suppose that means that she doesn't want you there, but you're going to ignore her wishes and go anyway.”
Jesus chuckled. “In womanspeak, I guess you think I'm wrong to want to protect her.”
Diana narrowed her eyes, considering him carefully. “You love her, that's obvious.”
“To everyone but her,” he muttered.
She shook her head. “No, she knows. She's just not ready to commit. She's afraid it'll mean giving up her independence. Having to answer to you if she's late. Worrying about how you'll react if she were hurt and of course, being afraid for you.”
He pursed his lips. “Eerily on the money.” But then, Diana was his top profiler, and she seemed instinctively to understand Michaela—possibly because they were very similar in some respects. “She'll be pissed that I'm going with her.”
“Totally. Even more upset if you interfere somehow,” Diana confirmed dryly. She pushed the takeout dish toward him, and nodded at the home fries.
He snared one and considered her comment for a second. “So I'm damned if I do—”
“And damned if you don't. I think Ryder has felt like that on many an occasion,” she said with a smile that left no doubt about her feelings for her newlywed husband.
Still, Jesus had to rag on her a little. “So how's that working out for you?” He snatched the last home fry.
She slapped at his hand. “You better be prepared for Michaela to give you an epic ass-kicking. But afterward...” Her brows waggled.
Oh, yeah.
He was sure Michaela would be only too eager to kiss away his boo-boos.
***
Michaela entered the underground chamber where the Slayer Council of Elders waited for her, Jesus trailing closely. They were all seated in a row of chairs in the underground chamber beneath Grand Central Terminal.
No matter how hard she had argued with him, he had insisted on coming with her. Stupid man. In reality, she was more afraid for him than for herself. The Slayer elders would not appreciate his intrusion, and her fear could prove a dangerous distraction yet again.
As she came to a halt in front of the Council, she took note of the two Slayers in training positioned for protection at each side of the group of four members. Also painfully obvious were the two empty seats vacated by the deceased elders. Clearly, the process of finding replacements had not been concluded. That surprised her. They should have named replacements by now.
Evangeline, a tall, muscular black woman whose body gave testament to her battles with the undead, rose from her chair and stepped away from the other elders. “You dare bring a stranger here?” she challenged, her head at a regal angle. Her right hand rested deceptively loose against a lethally long knife at her hip.
Michaela bowed her head and assumed a submissive posture that grated, but she understood was necessary. “ADIC Hernandez assisted Elder Benjamin and me when we were both badly injured. He helped you deal with Elder Aja's death as well. He is no stranger.”
“He's an outsider, and he has no say here.”
Jesus laughed, drawing their attention. Shifting aside his jacket, he revealed the FBI ID on his belt and the weapon tucked along his ribs. Not his usual Sig Sauer, but a Tec-9 semi-automatic assault pistol with a high-capacity magazine, which was incredibly powerful but compact enough to disappear under the jacket. He tapped the badge and then motioned to the gun. “These give me a say here.”
Color bloomed over Evangeline's face and the two Slayer guards moved toward them, along with Anthony, one of the younger male elders—and Evangeline's lover, Michaela suspected.
She whipped her arm across Jesus's chest and urged him back as Anthony nocked an arrow into a crossbow. “He means no harm.”
“We see it differently,” said Anthony as he came to Evangeline's side, his hand gripping the crossbow, which he pointed at Jesus's chest.
