Beautiful Danger

Chapter 15

Gunnar stood before the principal’s office desk, within the ancient confines of the eighteenth-century mansion the pack had relocated to after the idiot LaRoque’s crazy escape had taken out a well-fortified compound. That the vampire was still running free boiled Gunnar’s blood.

Or course, it had occurred because someone had trusted a woman enough to hand her the job. He respected Rook as far as running the Order and training the knights went, but now? The Order required some serious restructuring.

Gunnar had charged into the pack house after learning that Caufield had attempted to kidnap the female knight, and had failed. Supposedly he’d lost a perfectly good Mercedes in the process when one of his wolves had died within. Sometimes wolves could be so stupid.

“Why did you do that?” Gunnar asked now, after he’d refused the whiskey the principal had offered. “I was going to speak to her, see what information I could wring out of her. Now it’s too late. She’ll be suspicious of anyone and everyone.”

“We want that hunter out of the picture,” Caufield snapped.

“Then you must have a reason to believe she’s a danger to the pack.”

“A feeble woman? Not at all.” The leader tilted back a finger of whiskey. “Just don’t like to leave loose threads.”

Gunnar looked down his nose at the pack leader. The man was half a foot shorter than him, but he knew he was no match to him should he shift and unleash his talons and beastly strength. Yet he’d dealt with Remy for too long and knew he could talk to the man in this manner and not fear retaliation. They each offered something the other wanted.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t come straight to me when you wanted LaRoque dead.” Gunnar paced to the window and, not turning his back on the principal, lifted his chin. “Had you left the task to me, it would have been taken care of immediately, and more discreetly.”

“Yes, and how then to explain that one? I needed the Order to take out the vampire, so I used a contact of my own instead of going through Rook? Don’t be foolish, Gunnar. I had to make the request through official channels, then sit back and hope it was you they assigned to the task. Most unfortunate they put an idiot woman on the job. I can’t believe your organization actually admits women.”

“She is an anomaly. And now that she’s proven her lacking worth, I expect King will have her banished.”

“Yes, the King. That enigma who pulls the strings yet remains an anonymous force behind the Order.” Caufield crossed his arms and leaned against the desk. “Have you ever met the fellow?”

“When I was knighted.”

Caufield chuckled. “Knighted. Ha! You know only legitimate royalty can bestow knighthood.”

“How do you know he’s not?”

The wolf took that one into consideration. Gunnar believed the rumors that King was a king, or had ruled somewhere at some time. There were many countries still ruled by a monarchy. But he’d never buy into the insipid rumors his leader was a vampire. How ironic would that be?

No, he trusted King and Rook implicitly. Though that didn’t mean he didn’t have his own side business going. An Order knight was not rich by any means, and while the Order’s salary provided a bit more than the average working stiff’s, Gunnar preferred a grander lifestyle. Thus, his partnership with pack Levallois.

“You may be right,” Gunnar conceded. “The woman needs to be taken out. But she may have information that will lead me to LaRoque, so keep your men away from her and let me do my job.”

“Fine. But if one more of my pack dies at that madman’s hands, I will hold you accountable. And you won’t walk out of my sight alive next time I see you.”

“Fair enough.” Gunnar saluted the man, and strode out of the office, cursing the idiot wolf’s superiority.

He’d show him who would do the walking soon enough.

* * *

A brilliant flash of lightning woke Lark from the forced state of unconsciousness. Sitting up, she realized she wasn’t in her own bed.

“Domingos,” she murmured as she ran a hand over the rumpled black sheets. The room was dark, the curtains drawn, save for the thin crack that had emitted the lightning flash.

Her brain buzzed and an awful chemical taste lingered in her throat. She couldn’t recall much after sending Domingos from her bedroom, other than opening the door and not liking who she’d seen.

Glancing to the clock by the bed, she sighed when seeing the flashing LED lights. The electricity must have gone out. That explained the intermittent flashes of lightning through a crack in the draperies. The black sky made it impossible to tell what time of day it was, or how long she’d been out. It had been early evening when she and Domingos had gotten out of the shower and had decided to get dressed after a day of making love in all places, positions and speeds.

“Chloroform,” she guessed, assessing the icky chemical aftertaste in her mouth. “But who did this to me?”

She couldn’t be sure. The image of the man who’d stood in her doorway was fuzzy at best, but she knew she’d never seen him before. She was thankful Domingos had brought her to safety. He must have been watching from the roof. Her own private guardian gargoyle. Thank God, the man had not listened to her pleads to leave. She loved him for that strange stalkerish tendency.

“Do you?” she whispered in the quiet darkness.

Love was a word she had thought would never again come easily to her tongue. She had thought it only in reference to the act of Domingos rescuing her. She wasn’t so swept up in the fantasy of falling into the arms of a bloodsucker that she couldn’t be rational.

Not that love was ever rational. A girl did all kinds of crazy things when she thought she was in love. Like saying yes to secure a family for her and her unborn child.

Standing and checking around the room for a sleeping vampire before parting the drapes, Lark pulled aside the damask curtains and inspected the heavy downpour through the water-streaked window. She loved the rain. It smelled fresh and in this tight, compact city, it was very welcome.

But what was that out back in the little courtyard overgrown with honeysuckle vines? Flashes of lightning flickered on a form. Domingos stood outside, shirtless, his arms spread out to the sides and his head tilted back as if worshipping the rain. Or rather, he looked a god who had summoned the rain.

“Perhaps he did,” she mused, thinking if anything were going to soothe the vampire’s tormented skin, it would be rain. He’d once used standing out in the rain as a pitiful excuse to be granted invitation into the Order safe house.

“Such a schemer,” she muttered, but would not hold it against him.

Already barefoot, she opened the glass patio door. Above, the roof overhang protected her from getting too wet, though mist of rain tickled her skin and she couldn’t argue against the cold sensation that chased away the last tendrils of brain fog. Without calling out, she waited for him to notice her presence because to walk up behind him seemed intrusive. He was lost in a ritual that must touch his soul.

This was the soul-deep he’d asked her to give him, and it was easy enough to simply stand there and give it to him. Her admiration and trust. A quiet reverence. Something she’d never imagined doing while training to slay his breed. Now her anger and vengeance seemed best directed toward the werewolves.

What in the hell was the Order doing involving themselves with werewolves?

As well, she needed answers to why and who had tried to kidnap her. The only way to do that was to go into Order headquarters and start asking questions. That wouldn’t jibe with her shaky status right now. Dare she call Rook and ask him? If she let on about the attempted kidnapping he’d wonder what reasons anyone could have to take her, and she wasn’t ready to spill those bloody beans yet.

Domingos turned and smiled widely, gesturing her to join him under the downpour. Tentative at first, Lark made a dash across the small patch of grass, bare feet squishing through the lush lawn, and he received her in a surprisingly warm, yet wet hug that reminded her of their shower antics earlier. His kiss tasted like sky and summer. Raindrops splattered their noses and plinked Lark’s lashes until she laughed.

“You like the rain?” she asked.

“It soothes me,” he said. “Feels good on my back.”

“Maybe it has healing powers?”

“I like to think so. I’ve been told faery magic could heal me.”

“Really? Then why don’t you try it?”

“The downside of such a cure is that faery dust is addictive.”

Indeed, faery dust to a vampire was like meth to a mortal: instant addiction, and not a pleasant habit to take on. “You don’t want that.”

“Never. I’ve enough to deal with without adding addiction to the list.” He brushed aside the hair that clung to her cheek. “You feeling okay? That damned wolf dropped you on the ground. I didn’t see any bruises on you.”

He’d inspected her for bruises? To imagine her lover looking over her body while she was passed out wasn’t so much worrying as tantalizing, and Lark’s body instinctually pressed along his, seeking his heat.

What was more worrying? “It was a wolf? You’re sure?”

“One of the Levallois pack. Principal Caufield was parked at the curb, waiting to whisk you away.”

“Hell. I don’t understand that one. Thank you for saving me.” She kissed him again. “Why are the wolves after me? I mean, there’s a new hunter on the job—and a very good one at that.”

“I have no idea why the moon-dogs think they’ve a right to mete punishment upon you, if indeed, a new hunter is on the job. What I do know is you’re not safe at your home anymore.”

“I get that. But I’m going to have to return for some stuff. Weapons and—”

“Stakes?”

“They work well against wolves to fend them off while I can get the silver bullets loaded in my pistol. And I would like to retrieve my violin. It’s about the only thing I worry about getting damaged if another gang of crazed wolves breaks in.”

“You’re not going home. I’ll go there for the violin, and if you really think you need your stakes.”

“You don’t think I can protect myself?”

“Not against wolves that have a vendetta against you. Have you ever fought wolves? Trained to fight them?”

“No, but you saw me handle myself just fine in the alley.”

“And who swooped in to rescue you?”

“You helped,” she conceded, “but I could have held my own.”

“If that’s what the pretty little hunter wants to believe.”

“Fine. The big bad vampire saved my ass.”

“And a gorgeous ass it is.” He gave her backside a squeeze. “It’s settled, then. You’ll stay here with me. My estate is warded against wolves.”

“Yes, but supposedly my place was, as well. The ward master put up new wards after the first werewolf invasion.”

“Did the one who took you cross the threshold?”

“No. I don’t know. As soon as the door opened I was out like a broken lightbulb. I guess I could have leaned forward across the wards.”

“A properly enacted ward should have repulsed the werewolf. Unless you invited him in?”

“Never! You know, something doesn’t feel right. I’ve been asking myself the same question over and over. Why is the Order involved with wolves?”

“Who ordered the wards?”

Lark shrugged and almost said Rook’s name, but stopped herself. Just because she was sleeping with the enemy didn’t mean she had to endanger any in the Order. “My supervisor. Nothing in the Order of the Stake is done without his approval.”

“Is that the infamous King?”

“No. King’s liaison.”

“Ah. Rook.”

She shouldn’t be surprised at his intel, but she was. “I’m not even going to ask.”

“I heard the name mentioned while in captivity. Which now makes me wonder as much as you do. Why would the wolves be involved with the Order of the Stake?”

“If they even are. It’s just conjecture.”

“And yet I heard both the names of King and Rook while caged at the Levallois compound. The pack is involved, Lark.”

“Yes, it seems so. I’ll have to check with Rook. Perhaps a ward was missed. But I’m not sure it’s safe to stay here at your home, either. Once Gunnar gets your scent, you’re in danger, Domingos.”

“I like danger. It is more interesting than mindless pain, yes?”

“That knight would deliver you focused and excruciating pain. Trust me on that one. You do not want to stand against Gunnar. He killed his wife for having an affair with a vampire. The man has no emotion, no remorse.”

“Sounds like the wolves.” He kissed her forehead and bracketed her face with his palms. “All right, you check with your Order and learn what you can, but you do it from my place for now, yes?”

She nodded. “I’ll stay safe. I know how to do that. And I accept your offer to protect me from the wolves. I know I can hold my own against vampires, but wolves, I’m not so sure. Besides, we make a great wolf-fighting team.”

“That we do. Come here, I want to show you something.”

He took her hand and led her across the yard to a small arc of vines that formed a shelter from most of the rain. Once beneath it, Domingos brushed vines heavy with flowers from Lark’s shoulder, and she felt only a mist from the rain.

“It’s kind of romantic under here,” she said, sliding her hands up his chest. “Who would have thought you’d have a cozy little love nest?”

“I like that I can surprise you. Kiss me once more,” he said. “I want to check something.”

“What?”

He bent to kiss her and dashed his tongue against hers. Gripping her tightly against his body, he deepened the kiss, as if he required her breath to survive. “Still taste the chloroform.”

“Yuck. And here I thought you were all about eating me up.”

“Oh, I don’t mind the taste.” He kissed her again deeply, roughly. “It’s fading.”

“Let me try a rain gargle.”

Lark leaned out of the grotto and stuck out her tongue to collect rain and wash away the awful taste. She felt Domingos hook a finger in her belt loop, and dared to lean forward even more, at an angle that would see her falling, but he held her securely. She spread out her arms and, for the moment, got lost in the joy of it all, raindrops splashing her skin and lashes.

He would never let her fall.

It had been a while since she’d forgotten to be angry. And a small voice inside her whispered that she should ride the joy while it was within grasp.

“Pull me back!” she called.

She stumbled against Domingos’s chest with bubbling laughter tickling up her throat. The vampire put back his head and laughed, too, then stopped abruptly and asked, “Why are we laughing?”

“Because the rain tickles.”

“Better than laughing because something wicked is scratching inside your skull.”

“You’re lucid right now.”

“Again, it’s the rain, combined with the powerful elixir known as Lark, The Vampire Healer.”

“I like that title. But don’t ever let my superior hear that one.”

“Promise. I don’t even want to meet the guy, let alone worry about saying the wrong thing to his face.”

“Just so.”

“It tickles even more if you can feel it on your skin.”

He tugged up her shirt and she let him take it off. His fingers played over the wet black lace bra, teasing her nipples to hard peaks. Lark let out a humming sigh. Something about musicians and their fingers; they certainly had skill. Toying with her bra clip, he waggled his brows suggestively at her.

“Go for it,” she offered. “I’ve never made out in the rain before.”

“Different than the shower. No serial killers.”

“And we can be fairly certain there are no clowns in the vicinity.”

A flick of his fingers sent her bra spilling from her shoulders to land on the soggy ground. Domingos’s skin slicked over her wet skin, his hands gliding across territory he’d marked as his own as he suckled her nipple. Holding her across the back, he possessed her, claimed her. Just like that. She was his. Lark didn’t want to be anywhere else.

This wrong had become right.

Suddenly he spun her around and she landed against the wall of vines and flowers, upsetting thick droplets to splatter her face and breasts. He unfastened her pants and slid them down, helping her step out of them. Her panties followed. And the vampire fell to his knees, gripping her hips and kissing her belly. He moaned, and muttered something about how soft she was, but remained intent on giving her pleasure.

Lark threaded her fingers through his hair, weaving the wet strands into twists. His tongue entered her, piercing her with the sweetest fire. As he directed, she arched her back and put up one leg over his shoulder.

The scent of honeysuckle toyed with what might still be dizzy remnants from the chloroform. All Lark knew was that this was a bliss she wanted to indulge. He licked her until her insides jittered and she balanced on the verge of orgasm.

“Yes, please,” she murmured. One hand clutched his hair, the other grasped at the fragrant vines twisting across the wall beside them. “Set me free,” she said.

And with an exacting rub of his thumb, he set her off to a soar. Crying out loudly, she did not care that neighbors might hear because the rain beat down steadily, disguising their lovemaking with a rhythmic patter matched by her steadfast heartbeat.

Domingos glided up to hug her, his taut muscles flexing against her panting softness. He tucked a kiss to her ear, her forehead and then her eyelids. “My sweet hunter. You think I can give you freedom?”

“You already have,” she said, and followed with a tug at his jeans. “Put yourself inside me, lover. Here.” She squeezed his erection through the wet material as he shimmied down the pants. “And here.” She tapped his fang.

The man met her gaze with a wondrous smile. “Yes, oh yes, my love.”

And he lifted her to wrap her hips about his, and as his long, hot shaft glided beyond her folds, the cold, hardness of his fangs pierced her throat. Lightning flashed in the sky, and Lark cried out in ecstasy.