Vampire interrupted, p.2
Vampire, Interrupted, page 2
“I thought if you woke up before me it might make you feel better if you were on top of the sheet and I was under,” she explained when he glanced her way.
Tiny relaxed and nodded. “It does. I guess it’s okay if we sleep like this. But next time don’t control me. We’re partners, Marguerite…equals. I need to be able to trust you, but I can’t do that if you’re going to control me any time we disagree on what to do.”
“I won’t,” she promised.
Nodding, Tiny lay back in bed and Marguerite turned off the lamp and followed suit. They lay there in silence for several moments, and then Tiny sighed.
“I can’t get back to sleep. Do you think you could do that control thing and make me?”
Marguerite turned her head to peer at him with surprise. “You want me to control you?”
“Just to put me to sleep,” he muttered.
The last of her guilt slipping away, Marguerite slid into his thoughts and put him back to sleep, and then lay back with a small smile. She liked Tiny. He was a good man. It was really a shame she could read and control him. He would make a good lifemate for some lucky gal.
Perhaps she should see if she couldn’t find him a lifemate, Marguerite thought. It would be nice for her nephew’s wife, Jackie, to have her friend with her in the future. She knew the woman would be shattered when he died whether it was next week or some time in the far distant future when he’d reached his dotage.
Marguerite closed her eyes, her mind filling with immortal after immortal she knew that may suit Tiny. He was a big, sweet man, a gentle giant. He deserved a sweet, kind wife who would appreciate him as he deserved to be appreciated. She drifted off to sleep while still considering the matter.
Julius Notte looked down at the empty bed and frowned. It wasn’t even five o’clock yet, more than an hour from sunset. Marguerite Argeneau should be snug in her bed, but wasn’t. He knew he had the right room. The scent of a woman’s perfume—sweet and musky like fruit at harvest time—assured him that this was her room. And she’d obviously been sleeping here earlier, but now the room was empty.
Scowling, he glanced over the mess around him, taking in the rumpled bed with its sheet and comforter trailing onto the floor, the broken lamp next to it, and the shattered glass that had been knocked from the bedside table.
Concern replacing his annoyance, he retraced his steps, instinct sending him to the door of the other bedroom in the suite. It should be where the private detective, Tiny McGraw, was staying, but when he inhaled he caught a faint whiff of that sweet and musky perfume. Marguerite was in there, or had been at some point.
Julius opened the door and moved silently inside.
Two
Marguerite’s eyes snapped open, muffled sounds jerking her from sleep. She was immediately alert. Even so, she had to blink several times before her mind accepted the sight before her. Tiny dangled in the air, caught by the throat and held above the floor by…Christian Notte? Eyes locked on the two men, she reached back blindly to feel around until her hand knocked against the bedside lamp. Finding the switch, she turned it on and squinted against the light that exploded into the room.
“Good evening, Marguerite.”
Stiffening in the bed, she stared at the man presently dangling Tiny in the air. It wasn’t Christian Notte. This man was several inches over six feet in height, with wide shoulders, handsome features, and deep silver-black eyes. All of which described Christian, but this man had short black hair and wore a business suit. Christian’s hair was long and auburn and she’d never seen him in anything but black leather or black jeans.
“Who are you?” she asked, glancing worriedly at Tiny’s face. Much to her concern the mortal was turning blue, his struggles becoming less frantic. She scowled at the man holding him and said, “Stop being so bloody rude and release my co-worker. We’re friends of Christian’s and he won’t be pleased if you kill Tiny.”
“Co-worker?” He dropped Tiny and perched his hands on his hips to scowl at her. “Is that what they call it now?”
Marguerite didn’t respond, her concerned gaze was on Tiny. The detective was gasping and coughing and struggling to get to his knees. But he was alive. That was something, she supposed, finally turning her attention back to the angry man looming over the bed.
It seemed obvious he was somehow related to Christian, who was technically their employer, but…really this situation was somewhat beyond her. This was her first job. How did one deal with these things? She wanted to snap at the man to get the hell out of her room—well, Tiny’s room, she supposed. However, she wasn’t sure if that was the most professional approach. Perhaps she was supposed to be polite.
Marguerite glanced to Tiny, wondering if he was recovered enough to give her some guidance in the matter. Her eyes widened with alarm as he lurched to his feet and—still struggling to get back his breath—launched himself at their visitor.
The attack seemed to suggest she didn’t have to be polite, Marguerite decided with satisfaction, and then winced as the immortal responded to the assault with an impatient flick of one hand that sent Tiny flying backward into the bedroom wall.
“Hey!” she cried out. Her gaze flickered between the man and Tiny until she saw that the mortal seemed all right. At least, his expression was grim, not pained, and he was moving himself into a sitting position where he’d fallen.
Scowling, Marguerite turned back to the attacker, mouth opening to berate him, but she paused when she noted that he was no longer looking at her. His attention was on the bed. She followed his gaze to see what fascinated him so.
The comforter had slid to the floor and while she clutched her half of the sheet to her chest, the other half still lay in place on the bed, wrinkled and flat where the large detective had slept on it. The sight seemed to fascinate the man, though she didn’t know why. Before she could even try to sort it out, Tiny distracted her by tackling him again.
Marguerite clucked impatiently at his foolishness even as the intruder simply responded by tossing him against the wall once more. She winced at the thud as he slammed into it, and then decided enough was enough. It was time to intervene before the sweet but apparently not-as-bright-as-she’d-thought detective got himself hurt.
Reaching out, Marguerite grabbed up the bedside lamp and swung it around. She’d expected the plug to pop from its socket as the one in her room had when she’d used it to fend off that attacker’s sword. Her intention had been to smash it into the man’s chest. Instead, something about the angle and the table being close to the wall prevented that happening and rather than hit him, she nearly dropped the damned thing in her lap as the cord pulled tight and brought it to a halt.
Muttering impatiently, she turned and began tugging the cord this way and that above the table, trying to get it free.
Honestly, if she’d had this problem when the man with the sword had attacked, she’d be dead right now, Marguerite thought with disgust, then cried out as she was grabbed from behind and pulled backward against a hard chest.
Of course, now the damned cord decided to give way and the lamp popped her in the eye as it flew free. Cursing, Marguerite ignored the sting of pain and quickly shot her hand out with the lamp as he tried to grab for it.
Her attacker immediately switched his hold on her, his right hand dropping across her chest to hold her in place as the left hand—previously at her waist—now reached for the lamp.
Marguerite squawked in shock as his right hand closed over her breast. She didn’t really think he was even aware of it in the struggle. She was, however, and wasn’t at all happy to be groped by a complete stranger, accidentally or not, and somehow-related-to-their-boss or not. That was about the end of her patience right there.
Gritting her teeth, she swung the lamp up and over her shoulder, smashing it into her attacker. Marguerite wasn’t sure where she hit him, but it had the desired effect. The man cursed, his hold on her loosening in surprise, and she burst from his arms and began to scramble off the bed. She had one foot on the floor, the other folded under her and pushing her off the bed when he suddenly grabbed that ankle and tugged.
Pulled off balance, Marguerite tumbled to the floor with a grunt, and then rolled onto her back to sit up, only to fall back with another grunt when he started to get off the bed, got caught in the sheets and fell on top of her, the impact forcing the air from her lungs.
That’s when the door opened. The room had gone dark when the lamp plug had pulled from the wall, but the moment the door opened, light from the hall splashed into the room again. Then the overhead lights by the door came on, brightening the room further.
“Tiny?”
Recognizing Christian’s voice, Marguerite struggled out from under the intruder who had gone suddenly still on top of her. Once free of him, she sat up and peered over the bed. The first person she saw was Christian’s cousin, Marcus Notte. Her eyes widened in surprise. Marcus hadn’t been with Christian when they’d met up just before sunrise that morning. He was here now, though, and with a woman in a maid’s uniform. Judging by the concentration on his face and the blank expression on the woman’s, she knew he was wiping the memory of this incident from her mind.
Marguerite’s gaze slid around the room then until it landed on Christian. The second immortal was kneeling beside Tiny, checking him over. He glanced around now, though, eyes widening when he spotted her.
“Marguerite?” Standing, he started to move around the bed, but froze, his eyes widening with shock when her attacker suddenly sat up, popping into view as well. “Father?”
“Father?” Marguerite echoed, turning an amazed gaze on the man she now knew was Julius Notte.
“Yes,” Christian said, his mouth hardening with displeasure as he hurried forward to help her to her feet. Once he had her upright, he glanced around, then grabbed Tiny’s robe and quickly bundled her into it.
Marcus had finished with the maid and closed the door by this time, and as she slid her arms into the robe, he hurried past them to approach the father who was getting to his feet. She saw Marcus whisper something in his ear, and while she didn’t catch what he said, she did hear Julius hiss, “What? Are you sure?”
“Yes, and you would be too if you’d taken the time to read his mind,” Marcus said a bit impatiently. “I told you to wait until—”
“I know, I know,” Julius muttered, interrupting him. “But I couldn’t.”
“There.” Christian’s voice made her glance his way, and then down to see that he’d tied the sash of the robe for her. She smiled her thanks, and then looked curiously back to the two older immortals. Christian did too, but while her expression was now curious, his was annoyed.
“What the hell were you doing, Father?” he asked shortly.
The senior Notte peered at his son, and then avoided his gaze by straightening the cuffs of his business suit as he said innocently, “Nothing. I just stopped in to have a word with your detective.”
Marguerite’s eyes widened incredulously. “A word? You attacked Tiny!”
He shrugged. “I thought he was attacking you.”
Marguerite snorted with disbelief. It was Christian who asked with interest, “Why would you think that?”
“Her room is a mess,” he explained calmly. “There is a broken lamp, glass everywhere, and the sheets and comforter are strewn across the room. I naturally assumed she’d been forced in here against her will.”
Christian glanced to her in question. “Is that true?”
“Well, yes,” Marguerite admitted, and then frowned and scowled at the man again as she asked, “How did you get in?”
“The maid,” he answered promptly, and—she felt sure—honestly for the first time. “When I received no answer to my knock, I knew something was wrong. It wasn’t yet sunset and you should have been in. So, I got the maid to open the door with her card key.”
Christian nodded. “That’s how I got in here just now. My bedroom backs onto this one and all the racket in here woke me up. I hurried out to see if everything was okay and met Marcus in the hall. When no one answered our knock, we had the maid open the door.” He glanced from Marcus to his father and shook his head. “If you’re both here, who’s running the company?”
Marguerite glanced to Julius. Notte Construction was a very successful, family run company that had become international with job sites all around Europe and North America. She knew Julius headed the company and that Marcus was the second in charge.
“Your aunt Vita,” Julius murmured, and when Christian’s eyes narrowed and he seemed about to ask something else, the man quickly glanced at Marguerite and asked, “So what did happen in your room? Were you and this Tiny person—?” He froze abruptly. “There’s blood on your nightgown.”
Marguerite glanced down to see that the robe Christian had wrapped her in had slipped, revealing the blood-stained neckline of her nightie. Sighing, she pulled the collar of the robe back into place and said, “Someone broke in and tried to cut off my head.”
“What?!” The three immortals squawked at the same time.
She nodded. “That’s why I am in here. Tiny didn’t want me staying in my room in case my attacker returned, and I didn’t want him sleeping in there for the same reason, so…” Marguerite shrugged. “He offered to sleep on the window seat, but he’s much too large for that. So we shared the bed.”
A moment of silence passed as the three men turned and peered at Tiny. Marguerite rolled her eyes, knowing they were probably reading his mind, seeing if sleeping was all they’d done. She found it vastly annoying. It was really none of their business. She could have an orgy in here and it would be none of their business.
Tiny groaned and Marguerite hurried around the bed to kneel before him. He’d managed to pull himself to a sitting position and leaned weakly against the wall, eyes squeezed shut in pain.
“Are you all right?” she asked with concern
“I’ll live,” he muttered.
Marguerite smiled at the grumbly tone he was using and stood up, catching Tiny under the arm and lifting him to his own feet as she did.
“Whoa,” he muttered, grabbing for the wall to help stay upright. He then grimaced and said, “Stop doing stuff like that, Marguerite, you’ll give a guy a complex.”
“Stuff like what?” Christian asked with amusement.
“Stuff that proves she’s stronger than me,” he admitted with a wry smile. “I’m not used to chicks who can bench press me.”
“You’re exaggerating,” she said with a chuckle and urged him to sit on the side of the bed. Once he was seated, she stepped between his legs and grabbed his head in both hands to tilt it down so she could examine the top and back of his scalp.
“What are you doing?”
Marguerite glanced to the side and gave a start when she found Julius Notte looming beside her, a scowl on his face as his gaze shifted between her and Tiny.
“Checking for head wounds,” she answered with irritation. “You were tossing him about like a Frisbee and I want to be sure you didn’t do him serious harm.”
“I’m fine, Marguerite,” Tiny rumbled, forcing his head back up. “My back took most of the punishment.”
“He’s fine,” Julius echoed, catching her arm and tugging her from between Tiny’s legs. “Leave the mortal alone. They’re weak but not that fragile.”
“Tiny is neither weak nor fragile,” she snapped, tugging her arm free of Julius Notte’s hold.
“No, I’m not,” Tiny agreed, his chest puffing up as he got to his feet. Marguerite almost expected him to beat his chest, but apparently his ego wasn’t that threatened by Julius Notte’s insults.
“I gather you’re what kept hitting the wall and woke me up,” Christian commented as the mortal began searching for something among the comforter and sheets.
“Yes. I woke up to find your father holding me up by the throat,” Tiny muttered, distracted by his search. “Where the hell is my robe?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Tiny. I have it. Here, you can have it back.” Marguerite began to shrug out of the robe Christian had wrapped around her, but glanced to Julius when he suddenly sucked in a deep breath beside her.
Her hands froze with the robe half off when she saw the way his eyes were moving hungrily over her pink nightie and all it revealed. Tiny had looked at her the same way earlier, and it had made her feel attractive and even a little sexy, but this was different. Silver flames had burst to life in the immortal’s black eyes, and Marguerite could almost feel their scorching trail over her body. A shiver slid along her body under her skin in the wake of his gaze. When his eyes stopped on her breasts, her nipples tightened and stood at attention as if he’d bent forward and rasped them with his tongue. When his eyes finally moved lower, dropping over the gentle swell of her stomach, the muscles there rippled under her flesh as if in response to a caress. And when they then shifted to settle at the apex of her thighs as if he could see through the delicate silk to the treasure that lay beneath, liquid heat pooled there and she began to ache.
Marguerite had never reacted to a man like this before and the fact that she was now, and with a complete stranger, sent confusion rolling through her mind, infecting every corner.
“No, no.” Tiny was suddenly at her side, tugging the terry cloth robe back up her arms and distracting her from Julius. “That’s okay. You keep it. I’ll just put on my pants.” Patting her shoulder, Tiny glanced over her head to give Julius a narrow-eyed look and then walked over to pick up the jeans he’d apparently hung neatly over the back of a chair before retiring that morning.
Julius Notte cleared his throat, drawing her reluctant gaze away from Tiny as he asked, “What about this attack business? Did you see who did it?”
Marguerite’s confusion fled, chased out by irritation as she recalled the events of the evening. Eyes narrowing, she asked sweetly, “Which attack? Yours or the first one?”
