Vampire Games (Files of the Otherworlder Enforcement Agency #4)

Vampire Games (Files of the Otherworlder Enforcement Agency #4) Page 9

The fire drained from his expression, and for a moment I felt like I’d won, as if winning this argument meant a thing.

“I was trying to protect you, for what it’s worth.”

“Protect me? From what?”

“From my enemies for one—I have acquired a few through the decades.” A ghost of a grin touched his mouth. “But most of all, I wanted to protect you from me. From me hurting you even more later on.”

“You certainly accomplished that. You can’t hurt me anymore.” My mind screamed that was a lie, but I ignored it.

“Can’t I?”

“No. You have to care about someone before they can hurt you,” I said.

He flinched. The motion should have sent a rush of satisfaction through me, instead it pushed a lump into my throat.

“Then why do I feel like you’re more of a threat to me than Nicolas?” he murmured.

There was no way to answer that. This conversation was so over. I turned to leave.

He moved again and stood in front of me before I could face the door to the condo. “You have to admit it was a hell of a few weeks.”

You don’t have to admit anything, my mind insisted, but panic pushed at my throat. His lips were only inches from mine, and they curled into his familiar flirtatious grin. Daring me.

If I ran away now, it would be as good as admitting I cared. That I hadn’t forgotten about our time together. That I hadn’t been able to move on, and instead had compared every man I met to him.

And I’d be damned if I admitted anything.

I tilted my chin, ever so slightly. Our lips even closer, I murmured, “I’ve had better weeks.”

A surprised laugh left him, and then his mouth was on mine. His lips were the perfect blend of soft skin and firm demand. It wasn’t a first kiss—not even like our first kiss, which had been soft and smooth, testing and wanting. This kiss demanded.

And I responded in kind. Because damn him, he owed me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

His desire pressed against my stomach, and I could feel the last bit of control I possessed slipping away. His body was hard where I was soft, and slightly cooler than my own. But against the cold night air he felt warm.

A moan escaped me and he pulled me closer.

I jerked away and turned my head because there was no room for me to step back. He tried to reclaim my mouth, and I almost let him. Desire burned through me. I knew the pleasure that waited for me in his arms. I knew the blissful quiet it would bring to my mind as he filled my thoughts, leaving no room for anything else. And I knew that for a time, I could find peace.

But it would be an illusion.

“No.”

He stilled, not moving or breathing.

“No?” he asked. And I noticed with no little satisfaction that his voice was rough with the same passion that overwhelmed me.

“We’re not doing this,” I said with a firmness I didn’t really feel.

An ache filled me when he stepped back. The bitter night air felt colder than it had before.

“All right.”

Disappointment warred with relief when he didn’t ask me why, when he didn’t even attempt to convince me. But Claude wasn’t the kind of man who convinced women. He probably had to fight them off with a stick.

There didn’t seem to be anything else to say. Nothing that wouldn’t either drag us back into an argument about his friend, or open the door to talk about us—and that was a door I wasn’t going to open. I couldn’t risk being hurt like that again.

So without another word I went back into the apartment, leaving the vampire out in the cold.

Chapter Six

I tossed and turned through the night. Normal for me, but instead of visions of murder running through my mind, thoughts of Claude plagued me.

I’d considered leaving. I’d gone so far as to pull out my bag. But I couldn’t leave this case half finished. I couldn’t leave a potential tie to my brother’s disappearance unchecked. And the idea of leaving Claude alone to face some vampire with the kind of connections the Magister’s son had, pushed panic into my throat.

Six years had passed since I’d partnered with the vampire. The case we’d worked had been my first as a full-fledged agent. A rookie, I’d been full of energy, unaffected by nightmares, and enamored of the legendary vampire, Claude Desmarais.

The affair—and that’s all it had been—had lasted through the case. Six weeks. And then they had ended. The case and the affair.

And it had ended so badly, I still felt burned.

The way he’d talked to me after I’d confessed that I loved him had made me feel like the lowest of the low. Wrapped in a sheet, I couldn’t have felt more naked, more exposed. But I’d already thought of him as a safe harbor. He’d never judged me, never said a harsh word to me. And in the nights we’d been together I’d shared so much with him. My hopes. My history. My fears.

It was only later that I realized he’d never really done the same.

I’d held out hope for a few weeks. Hope that Claude would apologize. I’d dreamed of him confessing that he hadn’t meant what he said. That he was sorry. That he’d only said it all in some misguided attempt to keep me safe. Weeks had turned into months, and my warm feelings faded and twisted into hurt and anger. By the time he had called—three months after we’d said our good-byes—I was no longer interested in his apologies.

Now he’d said many of the things I would have given anything to hear back then. But it was too late. Time passing might change little to vampires, but it changed a hell of a lot for me.

When the gray light of dawn peeked in through my window, I finally admitted defeat and dragged myself out of bed and into the shower. Claude was up and on his laptop by the time I got out to the kitchen. I could feel his eyes follow me, and I poured a cup of coffee while I gathered my thoughts.

“I’m not leaving yet.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said.

“That doesn’t mean we’ll be doing any more kissing.” If I could call such an overwhelming moment of passion by such a simple word. “We’re professionals.”

“I will treat you as such.” The intensity in his eyes made my pulse jump and my mouth go dry. “But don’t expect last night to be our final chat about us. I don’t have a lot of regrets—I try to live true to myself. But I do regret dismissing our time together as an affair. I regret speaking to you cruelly. And those are regrets I intend to remedy.”

I gaped at him for several seconds, then turned away. I couldn’t allow myself to hope. To think about what could have been. I could too easily see myself fitting into his life, fitting him into mine. Laughing with him in the evenings, talking cases with him during the days. Thinking about what might have been was easy. It just hurt too damn much when it turned into nothing.

“Some things can’t be fixed, Claude.” I didn’t turn to see his reaction. Instead I focused very intently on my coffee. Silence settled over us, awkward and uncomfortable. And when he finally spoke, I turned to face him.

“Natalie called. She’s finished with her spells, wants us to come to her house this morning.”

“All right, then.”

“Beatrice—”

“Let’s just get this case solved, Claude.” And for the love of God, not talk about us. I didn’t say it, but surely he could hear the message loud and clear in my voice.

“I just wanted to say thank you. For helping me with this. And that I’ll try to be more open-minded.”

He’d try to consider his friend a suspect. That’s what he meant. As far as commitments went, it wasn’t the best. But it was a step in the right direction.

“Let’s go see your witch.”

The drive to Natalie’s went far too quickly, and her home looked no less imposing in the light of day.

Claude let us in this time, not even bothering to knock, and I couldn’t help wondering again how close he was to this witch.

“Where exactly are we going?” I asked, following Claude down a long hallway. We emerged in what felt like another building. More of the cold winter had penetrated this area than the main living space we’d been in before. We passed a small bathroom, door wide open, then what looked like Chicago’s version of a sunroom. All windows and outdoor furniture and sliding glass doors.

We finally had nowhere else to go, but at the end of the hallway stood a set of double doors. The wood was old and thick. Were we headed back outside?

Claude knocked loudly, and a muffled noise came from beyond the doors. I couldn’t make out the words, but the vampire apparently could because he opened the doors. They didn’t lead outside. On the contrary, they led to a casting room.

I’d seen witches’ casting rooms before, but those had mostly been the circles of wannabe witches. Amateurs.

I’d never seen anything like this.

Natalie’s was quite big, for one thing—several hundred square feet. A large circle occupied much of the space, and it had been carved into the floor—a floor that looked like it was made of natural stone.

Aside from the circle, a small table was built into one of the walls, and upon it sat a few tools and bowls, likely for mixing spell ingredients.

“Welcome,” Natalie said, dryly. “Couldn’t wait in the living room for me, could you?”

I felt heat rising up my neck, even though I wasn’t responsible for our presence here.

“Patience is not among my virtues,” Claude replied in the same tone.

For some reason, their good-natured ribbing made me almost as uncomfortable as being in a Covenant witch’s casting room without her permission or invitation.

“This is quite a casting room,” I said.

A small smile crept onto her mouth, and she gave up her attempt to appear angry with Claude.

“Thank you. It’s taken me a while to build it.” She walked to the table, grabbed the brand from behind a bowl, and flashed it at us. “Let’s continue this discussion in the living room, shall we?”