Pretty When She Kills (Pretty When She Dies #2)

Pretty When She Kills (Pretty When She Dies #2) Page 38

“Fuck,” she whispered against his lips.

Kissing her, he slid his fingers between them. “Come for me.”

“You’re an asshole,” Amaliya gasped.

Cian chuckled and pinned her to the wall, relentlessly stroking her.

The doorbell rang.

Amaliya gripped Cian’s wrist. “Eduardo is here.”

“Let him wait,” Cian ordered watching her face.

With a gasp, she felt her climax wash over her, rippling like a great wave as their combined power slammed into her. Her eyes rolled as she collapsed against Cian. Unexpectedly, he was inside of her not only physically, but supernaturally. She could feel his overwhelming love and desire for her, his strength, his determination, and his need. It was almost too much to bear on top of the powerful jolts of her orgasm.

Kissing her deeply, Cian held her until the wave of power ebbed away leaving her trembling in its wake.

“What did you do?” Amaliya gasped.

“Claimed you,” Cian answered. “I made you mine. And I am yours. Bound by more than The Summoner’s blood, but by our power.”

A touch of anger mingled with her awe. “Why didn’t you ask me?”

Tenderly touching her cheek, Cian ignored the insistent ringing of the doorbell. “Because you already said yes. You didn’t flee tonight.”

Punching him in the shoulder, Amaliya frowned at him. “Oh, fuck you.”

“You just did,” Cian smirked.

“Are we married or something now?” Amaliya clenched him inside of her, eliciting a tortured moan from him.

“Or something,” Cian answered, nuzzling her neck.

“Dickhead.”

“I love you, too.”

The doorbell continued to ring tenaciously.

“I’ll get it,” Amaliya reluctantly said. “Before he thinks we’re already dead.”

As their bodies parted, Amaliya felt a pang of remorse at their separation, yet she still felt an invisible cord connecting them. She rinsed off under the water and slipped out of the glass box to snag her robe.

“Don’t let him see you naked,” Cian called out.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Amaliya answered.

The robe was black silk and fell to her feet. It was Cian’s originally, but she had claimed it as her own. She nabbed a towel off the counter and rushed out to answer the door. Wrapping her soaking wet hair in the towel, she checked the security feed before heading down the front hall.

The doorbell buzzed over and over again.

Opening the door, she set a hand on her hip and arched an eyebrow. “No patience, eh?”

Eduardo grinned, a feral expression. “Not at all.” The short man was clad in tight blue jeans, a form-fitting black silk T-shirt, and cowboy boots. He smelled of the earth and death. Handing over a red thermos, he said, “So when does the fun start?”

Amaliya ignored the way his eyes lingered on her breasts. “We’re getting ready. Rachon isn’t due at Zilker Park for another hour.” She unscrewed the thermos lid and glanced inside, sniffing loudly. Her blood still coated the interior and top. “Didn’t clean it out, eh?”

“I was tempted to lick it clean.”

“What stopped you?”

“I don’t really want to end up like Sam. Ghosts freak me out.” Eduardo shrugged, shut the door, and followed her to the kitchen.

The comment smarted more than it should have, but Amaliya simply shrugged her shoulders, dismissing it.

“I hit every cemetery in Austin.” Eduardo leaned against the bar and raked his gaze over body again.

Amaliya rinsed out the thermos thoroughly, the bloody water swirling down the drain. “And you made sure to pour it onto a grave right? The blood has to be on a grave.”

“Yep. And I waited until the sun was under the horizon. So it’s all good.” Eduardo scrutinized the apartment, taking in the brick walls, cement floors, and modern furniture. “Boring place.”

“I had nothing to do with it. This is all Cian’s Ikea fetish.”

“Speaking of the devil...” Eduardo gave Cian a slight salute as the vampire strode toward them.

Amaliya felt her nipples harden and her sex tingle at the sight of her lover. He was dressed all in black from his jeans to his western style shirt. The tips of his black cowboy boots were edged in silver and he wore a silver buckle that could be used as a weapon. His hair was longer and shaggier and his beard made him look a little dangerous.

“We’re set up I take it?” Cian asked.

“Cameras are in the park. The whole thing will be under surveillance, and your fearless vampire hunters are armed to the teeth,” Eduardo replied. “And you have me.”

Cian regarded Eduardo thoughtfully. “Don’t start shit just to have a fight.”

“Would I do that?” Eduardo feigned hurt.

“You’re a coyote.”

Eduardo flared a grin.

“I’m going to get ready,” Amaliya said. “The male posturing and testosterone is just a little too much. Isn’t it enough we have a vicious vampire and a necro-vamp to deal with?” She strode past them, rolling her eyes.

“Just keeping it interesting,” Eduardo called after her. “Because life is too short to be boring.”

“Or too long to be too exciting,” Amaliya said over her shoulder, then slipped upstairs to change.

Part Five

Sunday Night

Chapter 21

The sun had set in a blaze of glory that had given way to deep and darkest night. It was a new moon and the blackness of the evening was absolute. Only the stars glittering above and the headlights of the Jeep issued any light in the darkness.

Samantha sighed, twisting one of her silver rings around her index finger nervously. She had loaded her digits and limbs with silver jewelry at the last moment before leaving the house when she remembered the pain it caused vampires. While with Cian, she had stopped wearing it. Now she felt a little safer with the silver bands glittering on her fingers and around her wrists.

“It’s so dark,” she muttered.

“There should be a flashlight in the glove compartment. Alexia is always well prepared,” Jeff answered, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel.

The drive had been uncomfortable since they left Austin. Listening to music had only set their nerves on edge and conversation had drifted off into silence. Samantha sighed. She didn’t really want to talk about how her intestines were cramping uncomfortably anyway. She had already thrown up when they made a restroom stop at a small convenience store. Every instinct, supernatural and otherwise, was screaming inside her head that something was terribly wrong. The further the Jeep traveled down the empty country road, the more unnerved she became.

It wasn’t that long ago that she had nearly died after traveling this exact same road to rescue Cian from The Summoner. She had been fearless in her determination, but after nearly dying and all that had ensued, she had a healthy appreciation for the supernatural world and all the dangers it contained.

Continuing to spin the ring around her finger, she pressed her lips tightly together as the edge of the ghost town was caught in the headlights of the vehicle. A familiar faded and rotting sign that read “Fenton, TX. Best Homemade Peach Cobbler in Texas!” flashed past her window, then the rotting facades of long abandoned buildings loomed in dark shapes near the narrow road. Ahead was the “Y” in the road that cradled the dilapidated hotel where The Summoner had taken refuge and the gas station where Amaliya had fought constructs made out of her victims’ bodies. Samantha was grateful she hadn’t seen those things. Amaliya’s description alone had grossed her out.

The Jeep slowed. A big black truck attached to a camper was parked in front of the hotel. Jeff tapped his fingers on the steering wheel nervously. “They’re definitely here.” Jeff snagged his cellphone off the dashboard and checked for bars. “And we have no service.”

A hard lump formed in Samantha’s throat and threatened to choke her as a familiar figure stepped into the headlights and waved them down.

“So we’re in the same boat they are. No service. Out in the middle of no-”

“Stop!” Samantha screamed, finding her voice.

Jeff pounded down on the brakes and they were both pitched forward as the tires squealed. The seatbelt snapped taunt against Samantha’s torso in a painful vise. She gasped, clutching the buckle tightly.

Roberto stood in the headlights, arms folded across his chest, his head tilted to one side. His raven black hair and dark fringed green eyes were exactly as she remembered him. So was the condescending smile on his face.

“What the hell, Sam?” Jeff asked, twisting around in his seat trying to figure out what was wrong.

“It’s Roberto,” Samantha gasped.

“Cian’s dead minion?” Jeff lifted his eyebrows. “Seriously?”

Roberto’s smile grew as he casually walked over to the passenger door. His black suit and white shirt were immaculate. Gesturing for her to lower the window, he rested one hand on the roof of the car. Samantha stared at him through the glass, her hands trembling.