Rajmund (Vampires in America #3)

Rajmund (Vampires in America #3) Page 47

Sarah felt her face heat once again, and not from the vodka. “All right, I give. What are we doing here?"

He shrugged. “Having a drink."

She sighed and scooted further into the banquette, turning sideways to lean against the wall and bring her feet up in front of her. She wrapped her arms around her knees and let her head fall back and her eyes close. She was tired. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a decent night's sleep, and didn't know how long it would be until the next one. She thought of all the things she had to do once this was over, once they found Trish and the others. The nightmare would be over for everyone else after that, but just beginning for Sarah.

She'd resign from the University, of course. She felt bad about leaving them in the lurch like this, but the term was almost over and they'd find someone to cover her classes. She was sure they'd prefer that to having her finish out the semester, in any event. It was bad enough that she was living under an assumed identity, although they probably could have gotten past that. She'd done nothing illegal. But a psychic? A woman who channeled captive women in her dreams? That was the stuff of those tawdry newspapers they sold at grocery checkout counters and not at all suitable for a faculty member at any decent university. She sighed again, more deeply this time, and was glad she'd already cried herself out from the vodka. The last thing she needed was to get all weepy with Raj the Perfect sitting across the table from her.

"Tired?” he asked.

Her eyes flashed open and she gave him a distrustful look. He'd sounded almost sympathetic for a minute there.

He gave a cynical laugh, more of a breath than anything else, as if he knew what she was thinking. “Regina doesn't know anything about where she was held,” he said without preamble. “She was drugged at first and then . . .” He scowled across the table at her. “But you already know that, don't you, Sarah? What else haven't you told me?"

Sarah studied him for a minute and looked away. “Emelie said you wouldn't understand."

"Understand what?"

"Why I didn't tell you."

"You mean why you lied to me?"

She blew out a frustrated breath and gave him a disbelieving look. “Why should I have told you anything? What are we, best friends now, Raj? Hell, I don't even tell my best friends any of this."

"What about your buddy Cynthia. I bet she knows."

"Is that what's really bugging you? That Cyn might know something you don't?” His jaw tightened and she coughed a disbelieving laugh. “That's it, isn't it? No, wait. It's not Cyn, it's Raphael! You think Cyn told Raphael. This is just stupid vampire one-upmanship.” She laughed bitterly. “Well, don't worry, Raj. Cyn doesn't know either. No one knows,” she muttered. “Or at least they didn't until all of this happened."

She leaned her head back again, closing her eyes. She'd have to call Cyn when this was over, too, she thought tiredly. Have to explain it all over again. Although something told her Cyn would understand a lot better than Raj did.

Raj poured himself another shot and threw it down his throat, slamming the empty glass down with a crack of sound. “There's at least one vampire involved,” he said suddenly, his voice heavy with disgust. “He's putting the women under his control so they only see what he wants them to see."

Sarah looked at him. “Can you tell who it is?"

"No. But I can tell who it isn't. He's got power, but he doesn't know what he's doing. His work is clumsy and potentially harmful."

"Regina?"

He shook his head. “She'll be all right."

"Wasn't she taken from one of the blood houses?"

Raj nodded. “Corfu, but that doesn't—"

"Were the others all taken the same way? I mean except for Trish."

"Pretty much, and I think whoever took Trish meant to get Jen. She was at one of the other houses the week before. Wait a minute,” he said slowly. “Why?"

"Well, that's how we find him."

His gaze sharpened. “We don't do anything. I do. You're no longer a part of this investigation. It's gotten too dangerous.” He slid out of the booth and stood next to it, waiting for her. “Come on, I'll take you back to the warehouse."

Sarah swung her legs down, scooted out of the booth and said calmly, “I'm not going back to the warehouse. I need to help with Trish and the others, and I can't—"

"No."

"Excuse me?” she demanded. She glared up at him towering over her and wished she was wearing heels instead of her Nikes.

"I told you,” he explained with infuriating patience. “It's too dangerous for—"

"And I told you,” she cut in, each word clearly enunciated. “I'll do what I want. I'm not one of your damn vampires, hanging onto every word—"

He grabbed her then, lifting her off her feet and swallowing her next words as he crushed her mouth against his. His kiss was hungry and demanding, his touch rough and familiar at the same time, full of anger and need all at once. She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck with a little moan. God, she'd missed this. Missed him. Every frustrating, obnoxious, wonderful inch of him.

He deepened the kiss and she felt his fangs press against the soft flesh of her lip, felt the sting as her blood began to flow. He groaned and hitched her higher up his body, sliding one hand beneath her ass and pressing her against his erection which lay hard and long against the rough fabric of his denims. Sarah wrapped her legs around his waist with a sigh of pleasure against his mouth. “This isn't going to stop me from—"

He pulled back long enough to say, “You talk too much.” And then she was lost in sensation. The feel of him was everywhere, his tongue caressing hers, his kiss moving from her mouth to her jaw and down to her neck where he lingered, sucking the skin just below her ear, stroking it with his tongue.

She was vaguely aware of the bartender yelling more indecipherable Polish, of Raj struggling to twist something out of his pocket. Money, she thought, as he threw it on the table and headed for the door. She didn't know how they got outside, but suddenly they were at the car, his heavy body crushing her against the cold metal, his hands beneath her sweater, shoving her bra aside until her breasts filled his hands and he was strumming her nipples to exquisite hardness. She could feel her heart beating wildly and knew he must be aware of it, knew he could sense the rush of her blood beneath her skin. She threaded her hands through his thick, wavy hair, urging him closer to her neck, feeling the press of his fangs against her skin, wanting to feel—

A trilling sound suddenly rang out, seeming unbearably loud in the quiet parking lot. “Ignore it,” she gasped, tightening her legs around him. The ring came again and Raj froze, his breath shivering across her damp, hot skin. She felt him stiffen beneath her, and not in a good way.

"No,” Sarah pleaded softly.

"Jesus,” Raj said. “I shouldn't—"

The touch of his hands changed, no longer caressing, but an impersonal cage supporting her as her legs dropped to the ground. She slid down his body, feeling his obvious arousal as he set her on her feet, putting a few inches and a hundred miles between them. “I shouldn't have done that,” he muttered. The damn phone rang a third time. “Fuck,” he cursed and stepped away from her, digging into his pocket to retrieve his cell.

Sarah leaned against the car, too shocked to say anything, still reeling with the rush of feeling his mouth against her neck, his hands all over her body. She shook herself slightly. Raj glanced at her, his eyes no longer hot, but shuttered and blank, and Sarah ground her teeth, wondering if she could find a piece of sharp wood somewhere nearby. She straightened her clothes, refusing to look at him, refusing to see the look on his face. She heard the locks click open and slipped into the car, sitting sideways on the seat, running shaking hands through her long hair, trying to comb out the worst of it, remembering his thick fingers twisting it out of the way, his mouth . . . She closed her eyes against the sensory overload, shivering slightly.

Raj stood with his back to her, the phone at his ear. “Do not go in without me, Em. I'll see you in . . . Fuck, I'll get there as soon as I can.” He jammed the disconnect with his thumb and shoved the phone back into his pocket, then spun around and headed for his side of the car. His door opened and he slid inside, filling the car with his presence, sucking all the air from her lungs. Sarah swung her legs into the car and closed the door.

"You okay?” he asked.

"Sure,” she lied. She brushed nonexistent lint from her denims, avoiding his no doubt sincere gaze.

"I'll take you back to the warehouse,” he said. “Some of the guards are there and Em should be back—"

"Don't worry about it,” she interrupted. She could feel him staring at her across the endless gulf between their two seats.

"Sarah,” he began.

"You don't have to say it. I understand.” She turned and forced herself to smile at him, meeting his eyes briefly. “Sounds like you need to get going."

He frowned. “I've got people in the field, sweetheart, or I—"

"Don't call me that,” she snapped.

He stared at her, clearly startled by the sharpness of her words. She shook her head. “I'm sorry. It doesn't matter."

He swore softly beneath his breath, but didn't say anything else, jamming the car into gear and gunning it out of the parking lot. Sarah sat there, staring out the window and telling herself it was all for the best. She'd be leaving soon anyway and the last thing she needed was one more complication, one more detail to clean up before she hit the road. Not that this particular detail needed cleaning up. Raj had made it pretty clear that he considered anything to do with her to be a mistake on his part. So, it was better this way. A clean break. She'd pick up her money and be free again, maybe take a few weeks off, drive around and see a few sights before she settled down somewhere and built a new life. She clenched her jaw and looked out the window, wondering why freedom tasted so bitter this time around.