Sex and the Single Vamp Page 2

  “You can get that in a night spent between sweaty sheets. You don’t need to sign up for an eternity of playing happy family to be connected. People keep confusing physical need with some other deep, Oprah-book-club emotion. The sooner our kind recognizes and embraces our innate difference from humans, the better off we’ll all be.”

  Cici stood, unable to stay in one place for a moment longer. This had been a mistake. She’d known Deacon’s opinion on this issue. He wasn’t shy about sharing it, and the media had a field day playing their opposing positions against each other to create a buzz. But she believed in love—longed to have it for herself—and was quite happy getting it for other people.

  “Love…to have it even for a little while is worth it,” she said, forcing her voice to steady and averting her eyes just in case they flashed with emotion she didn’t want to share.

  “Losing it and living without it for eternity is a bitch.” Deacon held his hands up in front of him, his lips twitching in a half grin at her evident surprise. “At least that’s what I’ve been told.”

  “Loss is a part of living. You can’t get away from it.”

  “Living is what humans do. We exist.”

  “And you exist quite well.” Cici’s glance flickered around the room, taking in the show of wealth on display.

  “Yes, I do, and I’m not going to apologize for it. I served my country for many years, saw horrible things and did horrible things, as you did.” He gestured around the room with his hand, his expression unapologetically proud. “Aura Mortis Security is successful and I’m enjoying myself immensely. The benefits of immortality suit me. It’s like AARP but without having to join anything.”

  “We’re off topic.” She corralled her thoughts and tamped down her irritation with Deacon and his narrow-minded opinions. She needed his help and the sooner she got him to agree the sooner he would discover the truth. “I need your help. Some of my clients are dead and I think it has something to do with my business.”

  “Are the cops looking at you for the four deaths?” Deacon asked.

  “How did you know there were four?” Cici was shocked, creeped out, and a little impressed by his knowledge. She’d just found out about the third and fourth deaths this morning.

  Deacon shrugged and leaned back in his chair, completely unconcerned with whatever shady thing he’d had to do to get information that wasn’t even released to the public yet. “You call me up and demand to get on my calendar after seventy years of radio silence, and I do my homework.”

  “The cops came by this morning and talked to me about them. I get the feeling they think I was involved.” She made eye contact with both men to emphasize her point. “I’m not. I didn’t kill anybody.”

  “But you have in the past and the cops know it,” Deacon said.

  “That was different. It was war.”

  “To the human side of the force, they don’t always see the difference when it comes to our kind.”

  Damn. She knew he was right. She could practically feel the pointy ends of the pitchforks the police were sharpening just for her. The urge to run was almost impossible to overcome. Fight or flight. The instinct only became more powerful when you turned into a vampire—immortality shifted to a craving once you’d tasted it.

  “All I know is that four of my clients, friends, are dead and I need to find out who did it before I lose everything. My business. My life.” Cici stopped pacing at the edge of his desk and captured Deacon’s gaze with her own. “I need your help. I’ll pay whatever…”

  “Your money is no good here.” He held a hand up to stop her from continuing as he rose from his chair and stalked over to stand in front of her. He was close, so close that only their shared memories could slide in between them.

  “But I want to hire you. I don’t know who else—” He was crowding her, making his point with his body as well as his words, but she didn’t understand the statement he was making. She was normally a savvy woman, a vampire who could read people like Times Square neon, but Deacon had always whacked out her radar and left her adrift. She hated it and loved it, which only led to her confusion. Luckily, he was going to spell it out for her.

  “I want you.”

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered. But, holy shit, she did. She understood with every ounce of vampire in her body and responded to his words with every atom of female. It scared the hell out of her.

  “Yes, you do.” He moved even closer, his broad, hard chest pressing against hers, crowding out any doubt of his meaning. Subtlety was never his gift. “I’ll help you, but we can’t keep playing these games with each other.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning we’ve danced around the issue of ‘us’ for about two hundred years too long. While we work together, I want us to explore each other. Up close and personal. In bed. That would be more than adequate payment.”

  “And if I don’t agree?”

  “I’ll help you. Free of charge. But I’ll probably be an asshole.” He shrugged. “Blue balls make me cranky.”

  “Jesus,” Andy murmured from his chair.

  She dug deep, dragging up her indignation at his bold, illicit proposition, finding that outrage was harder than she would ever admit to him or anyone. But she couldn’t deny it to herself that she’d dreamed of being in his bed. Finally laying to rest the simmering lust that had remained uncharted territory for them would be good. Who was she kidding? It would be epic.

  “You’re an arrogant, conceited, overbearing egomaniac.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t hear you calling me wrong.” His touch, one finger trailing along the inside of her wrist, was enough to make her sag a little in the knees, but she kept her gaze fixed on his own, which allowed her to see the blaze of topaz there. He wasn’t holding anything back.

  “We’ve spent over two centuries avoiding this topic and you bring it up now?” she asked.

  “We both knew we’d have to deal with it sometime.”

  “Your timing is mercenary.”

  He leaned down, a lock of his hair sliding against the skin of her cheek, making her shiver with heat. “I thought we might give in during that one mission in France. Close quarters. Long nights with nothing else to do.” He shook his head. “But you are very stubborn.” He flashed a bit of fang and she closed her eyes and fought the urge to let her own descend. “I think it’s time. I promise you it will be good.”

  “I’d rather pay you.”

  “Liar.” He laughed, a dark, rough chuckle that caused her belly to tighten as heat pooled even lower in her sex.

  She was no liar.

  “Fine. You’re right. I’m curious about what it would be like. What we would be like. Together.”

  This was a seriously screwed-up situation. Her friends were dead. Her beloved business was in trouble, and her life was in jeopardy. She was not a vampire or a woman to run from a challenge, and she wasn’t foolish enough to ignore the pros and cons of what was on offer. Deacon could fix this; she knew it as a universal truth. She wanted him, had always wanted him, —even when he didn’t want her. This could be a win-win or a total disaster. She just needed a way to make sure the outcome would be firmly in the win column for her.

  “Fine, with one more condition.”

  He raised an eyebrow, a habit she both loved and hated with a passion. “I’m feeling generous today. What else can I do for you?”

  “Find my Maker.”

  “What?” Deacon took a step back, really just a slight shift that allowed a sliver of space between them.

  If he’d had any blood in his system, it would have drained all color from his face. Usually so confident and unwavering, the one word stumbled out of his mouth, almost a stutter. It was hard to catch him off guard, and the fact that she’d done it caused a frisson of alarm to prickle along her nerve endings, giving her an electric shiver from the inside out. Was this somewhere she really wanted to tread? She remembered all the years since her Turning with no Maker to claim her. B
eing unclaimed with their kind was a stigma, a liability. Cici wanted answers, and a night in Deacon’s bed was a small price to pay for them.

  “My Maker. You know how important it is with our kind to know who it is. The asshole left me to fend for myself.”

  “You had Tilly. The witch took good care of you from what I recall.”

  “And thank God for her.” She reached up and poked him in the chest with a long nail to emphasize her point. “A witch is no substitute for the training and care of your Maker.”

  “What if he or she had a good reason?”

  “I’ll make that call when I hear it from his or her lips.” Cici stood taller, confident in her decision to come here, assured that Deacon would be able to meet all of her demands. He always kept his word. “So, do we have a deal?’

  “I find out who killed your clients.”

  “And you find my Maker.”

  Deacon stepped forward, his head dipping down, hair falling forward to create an intimacy that should have been impossible in an office, in the middle of the day, with a spectator not two feet away. He reached out with a finger and tipped up her chin, barely grazing her lips with his own. Cici pulled back a little, needing to see his eyes when they signed this pact.

  “And you will come to my bed.”

  She hesitated, her entire being screaming for her to make this deal with the devil. Deacon had made it clear that he would still help her and he’d agreed to find her Maker. To add orgasms to the pot was almost overkill, but she was in the mood to be decadent. She could finally scratch this itch and move on.

  “Yes.”

  “Then we have a deal.” His final word was felt more than heard as he took her mouth. His tongue, wet and possessive, swept inside hers and took what he wanted. She gave it to him, unwilling to renege on her own part in this crazy bargain and also needing to taste and indulge. They swayed together, joined only in their carnal kiss, bodies straining to get closer and stay away at the same time.

  They broke apart, chests heaving with exertion if not breath, Deacon groaning deeply as he stepped back, eyes now lit with a jewel like fire. Cici placed a shaking hand against her lips, the flesh tingling with their swollen plumpness.

  “Don’t let me down, Deacon,” she whispered. Her non-beating heart jumped in her chest at the longing surging through her.

  “You have my word.”

  She wasn’t sure if that was a promise or a threat.

  Chapter Two

  “You’re an asshole.”

  Deacon settled back in his leather chair. Head thrown back, eyes closed, he waited for the indignant ass-chewing that was coming. Cici had barely exited the office before Andy turned furious eyes on him and issued a low growl that usually precipitated a shift into something big with lots of teeth and fur.

  “Deacon. Did you hear me?” Andy’s voice got louder as he walked nearer. Never one to yell, his friend got in close when he wanted to make a point, and from the way he sounded Deacon knew he’d open his eyes and find him perched on the side of the desk looking down with disapproval. “You know you were an asshole, right? You didn’t actually think propositioning a client for sex was okay, did you?”

  “Cici is a big girl. She would have told me to go to hell if that was what she wanted.” He shifted in his seat, biting back a chuckle as he remembered just how clear Cici could be with her opinions when she wanted to be. Those were some of his favorite memories. “God knows she’s done it before.”

  “You two worked together before?”

  “Yeah, during the wars. Government spook stuff. They used us for deep cover. Can’t tell you most of it or I’d have to kill you.” He shrugged when Andy lifted an eyebrow at that last comment. “Cici and I have always had differences of opinion. She’d never put up with my bullshit if she didn’t want to.”

  “And what would you have done if she’d walked out of here?”

  “It went down just like it did and I’m fine with it.” It had gone a lot smoother than he thought it would. He figured she’d have slapped him and stormed out before agreeing to his terms. “Her easy agreement today told me how scared she really is about this murder business.”

  It made him want to rip something apart with his bare hands.

  Nobody fucked with Cici. Ever.

  “If you succeed then you’re only going to help her keep her business open.”

  “It won’t be my concern. I wasn’t offering any kind of commitment to her. Just sex.”

  “She wants more.”

  “And she can find it with someone else when we’re done.”

  “But—“

  “I’ll be happy to discuss my commitment issues on another day. Right now, we need to make sure she stays alive long enough for me to sleep with her and then act like the asshole you so clearly think I am.”

  “Fine.” Andy moved beside him, his tone still tinged with anger but definitely down to business. “I’ll hack both the human and Other police files to find out what’s going on.”

  “Done,” Deacon said, almost hearing the gears in Andy’s brain grinding into reverse.

  “What?”

  “It’s done.” Deacon lowered his legs and hit the controls on his desktop. He keyed in his password and pulled up the necessary file while he waited the few seconds for the wall to part and reveal the hidden screen. A couple of quick taps and what he wanted flashed up so that Andy could see what he already knew.

  “Holy shit,” Andy murmured as he lowered himself into his chair and stared at the data and photographs displayed. “This wasn’t on the server.”

  “No. It’s my personal file.” Truth be told, he had years of information on Cici Trent. A little stalker-ish, but necessary to protect her. “I’ve been keeping an eye on her since she opened the agency. I knew she’d run into some trouble and I wanted to be ready.”

  Andy turned to look at him across the desk and he knew what was coming. Andy would want to share and while he’d rather have his fangs removed without novocaine, he knew he had to clue his friend in on what was going on. If this kept heading down the same path, it might get dangerous.

  “Deac, you need to tell me what’s up with this woman.”

  “We go way back.”

  “And apparently she’s the one woman you’ve not had in your bed…which is…weird. I’ve never known you to wait for any woman or have to bargain for sex. It’s enough to make me fall for Cici Trent myself.”

  “Don’t. Go. There.” Deacon stopped moving data around the screen, surprising himself at the vehemence in his voice. He usually controlled his emotions, but that had slipped out of a place buried way deep. This reaction was primal and he tamped it down before it got any ideas about coming out of hiding for good.

  “So, that’s how it is.”

  “I don’t know what amazing insight you think you have about Cici and me, but I suggest you forget it.” He returned his gaze to the screen. “And by suggest, I mean get the fuck out of my head.”

  “Did she dump you or something?”

  Deacon gave up, rising from his seat to grab a drink from the bar. This conversation called for whiskey. Luckily, being a vampire didn’t reduce the effect of alcohol on his system; he could still get shit-faced when he needed to. This wasn’t one of those times, but it would help to deal with Andy and his persistent demands for information.

  “Cici and I were almost married once.” He took a gulp of the liquid, reveled in the fire that coated his insides, and poured another. “It didn’t work out.”

  “And you never slept together?”

  “It was the 1770s. She was the daughter of a respected man. I was still pretending to be a gentleman.”

  “Why didn’t it work out?” Andy leaned forward in his chair, his curiosity creasing his forehead in concentration. “Was it the war? Did you go off to battle?”

  “She chose someone else. End of story.” The lie slipped off his tongue so easily he could almost believe it was true. It had never been the end of the story,
at least not for him.

  “Was she turned off by your being a vampire?”

  “She didn’t know.” He walked over to the screen, looking at the images projected on it but processing none of it.

  His vision was filled with a young woman with red hair sitting behind the counter of her father’s store pretending she didn’t know he was there. He’d avoided speaking to her for a year, only going inside to conduct business when her father was up front or at night when she was asleep, her soft heartbeat and gentle breaths as clear to him as if he were lying beside her.

  Finally speaking to her had been an act of desperation. He could no longer stay away and he’d known that it would end badly. Deacon had wanted her too much. He’d had no right to bring her into this life, this oddity of eternity. Even then she’d been a romantic. Wanted the ring, the commitment, a home, babies. Things he’d given up believing in many years prior. But he’d been unable to stop his pursuit of her and it had ended the way he’d predicted—very badly.

  “It was her choice. We were done. Nothing more,” he said.

  “It looked like more to me.”

  “What the fuck, Andy? Let it go.”

  “No, I won’t let it go.” He rose to his feet, slashing a hand angrily at the screen. “You have secret files on this woman. You started investigating this before she even came here. You hate her business and everything it represents, but you’re willing to go all in to help her keep it.” He jabbed a finger at the mug shot of a man with a scar across his face and a big black tattoo on his neck. “And this asshole is seriously ugly. So start talking.”

  “Damn it.” He didn’t try to curb the irritation in his voice because it had to get out somehow or it would rip him open from the inside out. He hated everything about this conversation. It made him think of things he wanted to forget and put behind him.

  And that was what the sex was all about.

  He would have helped Cici for nothing. He’d made a promise to her father that he would always keep her safe, and he always kept his word. But the wanting…that was impossible to explain. Fuck, it had been over two hundred years and he couldn’t abate the lust that coursed through him when he thought of her. It was always there, even when he fucked other women and lost himself in their pleasure.