Biting Oz: Biting Love, Book 5 (34 page)

“He may not know,” I put in. “I mean Elias.”

“Come on. He knows everything. He’s not telling us because he wants to fuck with our minds. Or because he’s keeping it back for control.”

I shook my head. “That doesn’t ring true. Elias is a huge humanitarian, at the forefront of all sorts of charities. Why would he screw us behind our backs?” I was a newcomer to vampires, but in the business world, where a lot of people were out for themselves, Elias was one of the good guys.

Elena opened her mouth, then closed it. Then sat back. “I’m just saying.”

“And we hear you, Elena,” Liese said. “But Junior has a point. We already have philosophical differences with the Coterie. We don’t need to divide our own ranks by imagining disparity when it’s simple deviation.”

Nixie blew a raspberry. “You sound like Julian. English, please?”

Liese blushed, slid her smartphone into her purse. “I mean we already have enemies. Let’s not make more, just because they don’t think exactly like us.”

“Well, I’m asking Steve about this,” Gretchen said. “I want to keep young with him. I can’t believe Dolly’s over a hundred.”

“Me too,” Liese’s mom said. “Fifty is the new forty, but I’d love it to be thirty-nine.”

Nixie snorted. “Hell, if Dolly’s right, fifty will be the new twenty.”

“Which still doesn’t answer the dying thing,” Elena pointed out.

“But it’s a step closer.” Gretchen smiled and began to eat.

Twyla stopped me before I left, gave me a quick update on Camille’s permits, which were unfortunately all in order. I got back to the Haus just in time to open. Like the previous Wednesday, trade was brisk. I barely had time to practice and no time at all to think of another avenue for Twyla to try. I hoped I could let it slide a day.
 

Wednesday night we had a brush-up rehearsal. Normally brush-ups are incredibly fun, with the cast ad-libbing hilarious variations. But aside from Toto humping a potted scenery tree and getting splinters in his doo-dah, it was as dry as a chewing cardboard.

I talked with Rocky at intermission. She’d discovered that Camille was connected to some high mucky-muck at CIC but didn’t have a name. I have to admit I was less interested in who the connection was than whether I could break it somehow. Rocky said she’d look into it.

After the rehearsal, I was surprised to see Glynn waiting outside the prop room, not looking very happy at all.

I cast around, but he was alone. “Where’s Mishela?”

“Gone home with Emersons.” He scowled. “They all took great delight in reminding me you live directly across from Camille’s club. That walking home alone would be dangerous.”

“Friends are such a pain,” I agreed. “Happily married matchmaking friends are the worst. I promise not to put any moves on you.”

“You’re breathing,” he noted flatly. “That’s a move. Your heart beats. Another.”

“Tough to be you.” I tried not to smile as I headed out.

His eyes clamped shut. “Walking. Yet another, the worst of the lot.” He followed, eyes still shut.

“Poor baby. Aren’t you going to run into something?”

“I wish. Perhaps it would dull my senses if I smashed my face against the wall. But I’d still have the image of your graceful hips swaying. The memory of your luscious feminine scent.”

“Nice, but the grimace on your face kinda takes the poetry out of it. Maybe you should open your eyes anyway. To watch out for bad guys.”

His eyes snapped open. “I don’t need to see them to kill them.” The tips of his fangs flashed as he spoke.

“Aren’t they already dead?” I pushed through the back door into the warm May night, enjoying our banter.

“Destroy is a more accurate term. But kill is so much more satisfying to say.” He paused. “Junior.”

He sounded so hesitant I stopped. We weren’t playing anymore.

His eyes were off to the right somewhere. “I know I should take you straight home but…would you like to get some food at the Caffeine Café? I’ll buy.”

Wow, that was sweet. And if he really was having fantasies involving nothing but breathing and heartbeats, incredibly dangerous. “Love to, but I’m still burping up muffin from this morning. Elena called a powwow of all the v-SOs. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it.”

Glynn stuck hands deep in his pockets and started walking. “Oh, I did. Mishela and Rebecca were cross that they weren’t invited. I pointed out the sun was up and got my head taken off for my troubles.”

“Not literally, I hope.” I fell behind, just to watch him. Tongue-worthy ass, but his shoulders were hunched and his head down. Maybe from the grief Mishela and Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm had given him, but maybe… Frowning, I caught up. “We can go somewhere else, if you want. Nieman’s. Still buying?”

Glynn sliced me a glance. “Am I that obvious? I would like to spend time with you. It’s dangerous, but…well, I can’t be in the same city as you and completely ignore you.”

I smiled ruefully. “We’re a couple of goofs, aren’t we? Don’t want to be together, can’t stay apart. If I didn’t know better, I’d say we were in a teen angst flick.”

“Teen angst?”

I flung my arm across my forehead. “Oh, I love him. But he is a vampire. Woe is me, we are from two worlds, destined for agony and never to be together. Star-crossed lovers like Romeo and Juliet, Tony and Maria, Richard and Kahlen—”

“Alien and Predator?”

I dropped my arm and laughed. “Yeah.” Seeing the black marble facade of Fangs To You, I sobered. “But the danger is real.”

“It is.” Glynn took my elbow and escorted me across the street, dropping contact almost immediately. “From our enemies and our hearts. Junior, I don’t know if this physical attraction we have is love. But I do know it’s real.”

“Yeah.” My arm still burned where his fingers had pressed. “What are we going to do about it?”

“It’s up to you. I only want what’s best for you.”

“And me for you.” I turned to face him. “What’s best for
us
?”

“Junior…there is no us. Not yet. That’s what you have to decide.”

Whoa. This load of sausage was heavy, and I couldn’t even begin to calculate the costs. I needed to lighten up, pronto. “There’s an
us
tonight, at least until you pay for my soda.”

“There is indeed.” His lips curved. “Why don’t you stow your instruments? I’ll wait outside.”

“You got it.” I slipped inside the house and raced up the stairs as silently as possible, dropped my cases in my room and raced back out. As I flew past my parents’ landing, their door started to open.

“Junior—” Mom.

“GoingoutwithGlynnbebacklaterbye!” If it were important, it’d have been Dad. If it were really important, they’d call my cell.

Outside, I smiled to see Glynn waiting for me. “Hey. You didn’t run off.”

“I’d never do that. Besides, I owe you a drink.”

Time slowed as we walked together through the warm, sweet-smelling night. Meiers Corners flowers marched in military-sharp garden rows, but it didn’t stop them from perfuming the air.

We walked all the way to Nieman’s without talking, silent yet saying all kinds of things to each other. He matched my shorter stride, saying
I care
. My hand sought his, saying
I need
. His warm return clasp said
me too
. Our smiles said…oh, God. Our smiles said
I love you
.

We got to Nieman’s. The neon was dark and the door locked.

I stared. “This is impossible. They’re never closed.”

Glynn glanced north. “Camille’s club has been bad for Meiers Corners in more ways than one. You know the city better than I. Where to now?”

I was still stuck on Nieman’s being closed. That was just wrong. “Practically every block has a bar but none as good as Nieman’s. Let me think. Von Bier’s on Settler’s Square has a nice selection of specialty lagers, raspberry beer and such.”

“Isn’t that near your Uncle Otto’s?”

“Yeah, okay. Scratch that.” While I thought, his fingers threaded mine, parting them like his cock parted my… I cleared my throat. “Well, there’s the Alpine Bar and Retreat on the outskirts of town. But that’s a couple miles away. It’d take nearly an hour to walk—hey!” Glynn had picked me up.

Actually, he swept me into his arms, full romantic-hero style. I was so flabbergasted I didn’t protest when he kicked into motion.

He shot forward and buildings blurred and wind snapped and my braid fluttered behind us and I realized we were going
fast
. Faster than the five mph I jog, faster than the twenty-two a racer runs. Faster even than my bike.

After I got over the shock, it was exhilarating. “This is fun,” I shouted into the wind. Glynn smiled down at me, a soft little smile that said he liked making me happy. It should have scared me, but the sense of freedom, of speed, of enjoyment shared and so doubled was far too precious. I clasped arms around his neck and urged him faster.

We reached the Alpine in a couple minutes. The lights were on and cars were in the lot, but instead of stopping, Glynn careened around the place and spun out again, a starship slung by gravity into an even faster trajectory. He raced to the opposite end of the city and spun around Mr. Miyagi’s
dojang
, then flew even faster northward toward the AllRighty-AllNighty.

He probably could have run all night and I would have enjoyed it, but I said, “Aren’t you afraid someone will see you?”

“I should be.” He slowed to a walk. “Most people don’t understand how fast I’m going. But some do.”

After the exhilaration of thirty or forty mph (which doesn’t seem like a lot when driving, but try pacing a car on a bike and you’ll see what I mean), walking was, well, pedestrian. Me and my big mouth. “Sorry. I was having fun.”

“Me too.” He smiled down at me, still snuggled in his arms. I snuggled closer.

The blue of his eyes darkened. “Junior, don’t.” He shifted me as if to put me down.

But I didn’t want this closeness, this night to end. A fairytale, sure, and all fairytales have The End, but not yet. Not now.

I wrapped desperate arms around his neck and kissed him.

Wanting and waiting had taken their toll on me. My lips, tongue and teeth all got into the act, tripping over themselves in urgent touching, tasting, nipping.

He slammed me against the first open space, a broad tree trunk, and devoured me in return. Wanting and waiting had apparently taken an even greater toll on him.

Ever open a screen door in a storm and had the door torn from your hands? I was needy, but still only a-hundred-pounds-and-change of female.

He crushed me against the tree, drove his muscled thigh between my legs and impaled me with his tongue. He thrust so deep my jaw ached. His hands found my breasts, kneading, hefting, pinching, and the ache shifted to my belly. He pressed forward with his thickly muscled leg, grinding into my mons, and the ache exploded in my groin.

“Who’s there?” a voice rasped.

Glynn lifted his head, panting. Behind him I saw a patch of perfectly clipped grass, one of Meiers Corners’s many beautifully manicured (Nixie would have said ruthlessly manicured) lawns. A beam of light played across the green, flashing over a park bench. A Meiers Corners public park.

We’d been kissing and pinching and leg-pumping in public. Not quite as bad as doing it on the front walk but certainly exposed.

Exposed, and, as the circle of light swept nearer, about to be more so.

Chapter Fifteen

Fortunately, Glynn was already moving. He hoisted me and skimmed around the tree. The flashlight beam cut to both sides but didn’t catch us.

“Well, I thought I saw someone, but now I don’t. Maybe I was imagining it.” The rusty tenor was Detective Dirk’s. “Guess I’d better call Detective Strongwell and report all’s quiet. I wonder if she’ll be breathing heavy like last time.”

Off-key humming and the boop-boop of a cell phone receded. I sighed. There were times Dirk’s social obtuseness was a blessing.

“That was close.” Glynn set me down.

It put my face at pecs level. My mouth landed on the swell of one cotton-covered mound as if I couldn’t help it. I could have, of course. The decision was still mine, each time, to risk forging a forever-type bond.

But I’d made the choice several times already and each time was getting easier. Maybe it wouldn’t have if Glynn were an ass hat, but he was talented, caring, and, as I tugged his shirt out of his pants and fastened onto bare, pale gold skin, tasted really good.

“Junior,” Glynn groaned. His chest lifted like he was grabbing something overhead. I slicked my tongue over a nipple. Wood cracked. His hands came down, a thick, leafy branch between them. He groaned again, this time in frustration. “We shouldn’t.”

“Yeah,” I panted. “But I’d give half my poster collection for a bed right now.”

“Give me a moment.” He shucked his jacket and draped it over my shoulders, then ran off while pulling his T-shirt over his head.

I barely had time to process the shock of those sweeping lats flaring like a rising cobra when he returned to whisk me up—against his naked body.