Darkest Desire of the Vampire: Wicked in Moonlight\Vampire Island (Harlequin Nocturne) (15 page)

He refused to ponder the fact that, deep down, he knew he was watching her to make certain she stayed safe out here in the wild. He could try to convince himself that it was simply because he liked to look at her—liked to watch the beat of her pulse against the tissue-thin skin at the base of her jaw—but it was a lie.

Having settled himself high up in the tree, where he could see approaching threats but where Isla could not see him, Sloane looked back to Isla.

When he saw what she was doing, he nearly fell out of the tree, vampire athleticism and all.

“Damn.” He had assumed that shy Isla would simply sit by the pool, contemplating the crystal depths as she savored the solitude that she had so clearly craved.

He had been wrong.

While he had been arguing with himself, the woman he had pegged as reserved had slipped her sundress over her shoulders and down, where it now pooled around her ankles. Now she stood in a skin-colored strapless bra and bikini panties that gave the impression that she was completely naked.

Sloane felt his fangs begin to slowly descend from his gums as his eyes raked over the expanse of skin she had bared. It put him in mind of roses and cream, the pale expanse already flushed from exposure to the sun.

It was smooth and perfect and made him want to take a taste.

Her hands fluttered at her sides nervously as she looked around her, and Sloane found it enticing that she was so nervous, so self-conscious, even though she was completely alone. At least as far as she knew.

“Man.” He watched as she tentatively stepped toward the pool that had been carved out of the slick rock, dipping her toes before diving straight in, as he would have done. He had ample time to gaze upon the ripe curves that made up her small body—the curvy legs, the swell of her hips, the slim waist, the delicious mounds of her breasts.

“Fuck.” Sloane’s cock hardened painfully when, at the last moment, Isla reached behind her back and quickly unhooked her bra. She flung it behind her as she slipped into the pool, which was surprisingly deep.

He had a quick but vivid impression of full, plump breasts with nipples the color of rose petals.

This wasn’t good. Swallowing thickly, Sloane closed his eyes against the vision of Isla rising back out of the water, the clear liquid coursing in streams over her slender shoulders and down into the crevice between those heavy breasts.

The lust riding him wasn’t normal. And with lust came the need to feed, to mark her as his own so that no one else would touch her.

He had no delusions about what would happen to him if he marked a human so pretty that she obviously had to be for Lucian.

He would be dead. And likely, so would she. When Isla lay back in the water, letting it buoy her weight as she floated on her back, he groaned.

Her entire frame was bared to his gaze, and for the first time in memory he found that desire overruled his thirst. He wanted to sheath himself inside of her, wanted to mark her with his scent.

The voice telling him that he couldn’t was growing quieter and quieter, fading away into the recesses of his mind.

So wrapped up was he in the vision before him that he didn’t immediately snap to attention when the scent crossed his consciousness. He turned his head to the side, not sure if he had sensed what he thought he had.

Yes...there it was. The vinegar smell unique to vampires. It was a scent he was well familiar with, yet this one seemed...different. Stronger than it should have been when the vampire wasn’t yet close enough for him to hear.

The only thing that Sloane could think of was that there were two vampires prowling around Isla as she swam. But rogue vampires rarely traveled together.

His fangs descended the rest of the way in a heated rush, and possessiveness washed away the lust. One or two, it didn’t matter. He was feeling protective of Isla, and although he didn’t know who—or how many—vampires were stalking her, he found that he didn’t care. The sudden invasion, right while he was lusting after the woman, turned a switch in his brain and he growled, determined to protect what his instincts decided was his.

Though he heard nothing, the scent failed to strengthen, which told him that the intruder had heard his growl and had stopped moving. He growled again, low, an animalistic sound that told the other vampire that this area was his territory...and that everything in the territory was his.

He would pay later for declaring this strange woman as his own—that much he knew even through the impulse-driven fog of his mind. But he couldn’t seem to help himself, an alpha animal who had found his mate.

Sloane checked to make sure that Isla was still swimming in the pool below, blissfully unaware of any threat. Bunching his muscles, he leaped to the ground like a wildcat, landing in a crouch.

The dry scent of the other vampire began to fade. The other was drawing back. Sloane felt the adrenaline rush into his stagnant blood, the thrill of having won a face-off, but it was twined tightly with a mix of emotions that he did not want to feel.

What had he just done?

Chapter 3

S
loane let himself look at Isla one last time. She was standing in the pool now, the cool water kissing her rosy nipples, forcing them to sharp points. Despite what had just happened, he felt his cock again begin to rise, thickening with the almost desperate lust of a second erection.

He needed to get her the hell out of the water and back to the resort, where he could avoid her for the rest of her stay. But his instincts and the hormones that still shot through his body wanted him to slide into the water with her and tear the last tiny scrap of fabric from her body. He wanted, more than he’d ever wanted anything, to hilt inside of her in one hard thrust, at the same time sinking his fangs into the delicate pulse at her neck, drinking from that ambrosial mix that smelled of mangoes and copper.

Drinking until all of his hungers had been sated.

With a will that he hadn’t needed to put to use since his time on the battlefields of World War II, Sloane swallowed down his instincts, his need. Retracting his fangs before he was ready was painful, but he had no choice.

He made sure to make a lot of human noise as he stalked through the last bit of undergrowth toward Isla to let her know someone was approaching.

“Stop!” Isla’s voice was full of nerves, and she whirled in the water to face him, her hands clutched protectively in front of her naked breasts. “I’m...I’m not dressed. Please, just give me a minute.”

He watched a spark in her eyes appear when she laid eyes on him, recognizing him. He heard her pulse quicken and wished that he hadn’t.

She wasn’t immune to him. She felt the same heat that he did.

“It’s you.” Relief was evident in her voice, and Sloane shook his head at her naiveté. She had met him all of once, and he knew better than anyone that he was not a creature to be trusted. “I’m so silly. I’m...I’m skinny-dipping. Please, just turn around. Let me get my clothes on.”

Isla waded to the rock where her bra and dress lay. He could smell the cotton scent that had been teased out by the sun.

She faltered when he deliberately turned the corners of his lips up in a feral grin.

“What are you doing, running off outside the gates of the resort?” Stalking to where she blinked up at him from the water, he bent at the waist and clasped his hands under each elbow. “Didn’t anyone tell you that guests of the resort are supposed to stay on the grounds?”

“What—” Isla let out a sound of indignation as Sloane easily lifted her by the elbows, hauling her from the water.

He set her down on the rock abruptly, squashing the need to pull her to him, to consume her lips, to wrap those shapely legs around his waist.

He schooled his face in a scowl, trying to look menacing.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Her voice vibrated with temper. Instead of trembling in front of him, she surprised him yet again, glowering up at him, anger bringing her blood to the surface of all of that luscious, naked skin.

“This is the jungle, sweetie.” Sloane tried to sound condescending. The way that she narrowed her eyes at him told him that he had succeeded. He heard the grating sound of her teeth scraping together as, with one arm still clasped over her naked breasts, she bent at the waist and scrabbled for her sundress.

Forgoing the bra, she pulled the thin cotton over her head. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that the thin fabric clinging to her damp skin was an even more erotic sight than her naked flesh had been.

“Thank you ever so much for pointing that out.” Well, damn if the woman he had pegged as meek and mild didn’t have a fiery temper to match her hair.

He supposed that it was contrary of him to find her anger arousing, but he did. At the same time, he could have shaken her for her thoughtlessness.

“You’re not listening.” Bending until his face was right in hers, Sloane caught her stare with his own, making sure that she was paying attention. “Those gates around the resort? They’re there for a reason. Tahiti is beautiful, sweetie, but beauty often hides something sinister.”

“I’m sorry.” Obviously uncomfortable, she crossed her arms over her torso, running her hands up and down her upper arms. “Is that why you’re here? To retrieve me? Am I in trouble?”

Sloane smelled the champagne fizz of adrenaline as her pulse stuttered, then began to beat again, double time. She was nervous.
He
made her nervous.

Part of him hated that, and the other half was simply glad that she was finally paying attention.

“I saw you leave the grounds. I followed you because I wanted to make sure you were safe.” This wasn’t a lie, though he still didn’t understand what, exactly, had drawn him to her from the beginning.

“Why do you care?” Hands on her hips, Isla didn’t retreat, even though he could sense the tiny trembles that ran through her small frame. She stared right back at him, and the predator inside of him recognized its equal. “For that matter, if you saw me, why did you let me leave?”

“You seemed like you needed some time alone. You’ve clearly had a long day, and you seem like you’re maybe a little bit out of your element.” The fire in Isla’s eyes flickered and then was banked as she seemed to think through what he said. He knew that he had hit home, but it didn’t bring him any closer to understanding her.

“Thank you, then.” Isla ducked her head, and the heavy curtain of her damp, tangled hair hid her face, but he heard that irregular murmur in her heartbeat again. He watched, still wondering what the hell it was about the woman that he found so damn enticing, as she slipped her damp feet into her leather sandals. Decent again, she looked up at him almost shyly, tucking a long strand behind her ear.

“Taking a trip like this is not something I would normally do. My friend was supposed to go, but at the last minute she couldn’t. She offered the trip to me, and I...I guess I’m trying to prove a point to myself.” Sloane schooled his face into a mask of indifference. Her revelation had shed a whole new light on his understanding of her situation.

He would have bet his boat that she wasn’t a fanger. He also knew that, if her friend had secured a trip here, that same friend likely
was.

“Is stripping naked in the middle of the jungle not something you would normally do either?” His voice was wry, and he deliberately kept what he was thinking out of it. He would sort through that later. Still, he couldn’t help but be amused. Isla seemed to have a much different image of herself than what he saw in the woman in front of him.

Isla flushed, and she looked down at the ground. He could see the beginnings of a smirk forming at the corners of her lips, however, and he knew that she was proud of herself.

“Come on.” He nudged gently at the small of her back. The sensation of heat that washed from her warmer skin into his own was addictive. He wanted to press against her, skin to skin, and experience the same thing all over. “Let’s get you back to the resort. I wasn’t kidding—it’s not safe out here.”

Clearly uneasy, Isla looked around. “I did some research before I came.” Her words were mumbled as she followed him back to what could remotely pass for a path. “I thought that the Tahitian islands had very few natural predators. Other than those mythical vampires.”

“Very few doesn’t mean none.” Sloane ignored her comment and sniffed the air around them, searching for that dry smell of vampire again. He kept his mouth shut about the not-so-natural predators that hunted the island, certain that that knowledge would scare the wits from Isla.

“Why did your friend decide on Ile de Nuit?” Sloane tried to make the question sound casual as they walked.

Isla looked around her nervously, probably on the alert for the dangers that Sloane had mentioned. He wasn’t entirely opposed to the fact that she stayed closer to him than she likely would have had she felt safe.

It was good for her to be on edge. He was now suspecting that the woman truly had no idea what she had gotten herself into.

“When she told me about the legends, she said that she found the local history behind it fascinating.” They walked through a shaft of sunlight that had speared through a gap in the canopy of foliage, and Sloane found himself fascinated by the play of gold on the red of her hair. “Jessie’s kind of quirky that way. I know her from work—I’m a paralegal. She’s this buttoned-up lawyer by day, wild child by night. She’s fascinated by all things paranormal and was so excited about this trip. She didn’t buy travel insurance. Since she was super disappointed that she couldn’t come, and she couldn’t get a refund anyway, she insisted that I take her place. And I needed to get away. I mean, I thought that it would be good for me to go.”

Sloane noticed the slip of the tongue and wondered what was haunting her so badly that she would go on someone else’s vacation. But if he had only had suspicions a few minutes ago, he was now certain.

Isla Miller had no idea that Ile de Nuit was really inhabited by vampires.

* * *

Isla was mortified. Not only had she acted recklessly when she set off for her walk in the jungle, but the one time that she had cast caution away and done something spontaneous, she had been caught red-handed.

The sun had been so warm, the air so moist and welcoming, that she had simply felt the urge to feel it on her skin...on all of her skin. She’d thought that she was completely alone, so what was the harm in it?

Now she had no idea what to do or to say. The gorgeous man she had tried to flirt with, until she’d gotten completely tongue-tied, had been kind enough to make certain that she hadn’t come to harm, and for his effort she’d treated him to a peep show that he couldn’t possibly have wanted.

Looking down at the sundress that was now clinging to her sweaty, still-wet skin and to the bra that was wadded up in her right hand, she grimaced.

She would be avoiding the man as best she could for the rest of her trip. For heaven’s sake, it was just so typical of her that she couldn’t even do a vacation properly.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Isla looked over at the simply spoken words to find Sloane studying her as he walked. His steps were sure and steady on the uneven ground, even though he was looking at her and not at where he was going.

If she’d tried to do the same, she would have wound up flat on her face.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” She waved her hand in the air as if she was dismissing the entire episode, but she knew very well that she hadn’t.

The only one in a family of overachievers, one whose job as a paralegal had been viewed as the easy road when she could have been a lawyer, the inferiority complex was lodged deeply in her psyche. Nothing she did ever felt quite good enough.

Not that she was about to tell that to the gorgeous stranger.

“Isla. Look at me.” She did and tripped as soon as her eyes locked with his. Man, but he was gorgeous. And nice.

So obviously he wouldn’t be attracted to her. Men like that never were.

“You clearly didn’t know how serious the owners are about resort guests not leaving the grounds.” His expression darkened, and Isla shivered a bit. She wasn’t afraid of him—which was strange because there were days when she was afraid of her own shadow. Still, she didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that look, ever.

“It was stupid.” She wiped the palm of her empty hand on the skirt of her dress. The humidity was like a wet blanket, heavy and suffocating and above all wet.

The sounds of the jungle went silent in the blink of an eye, causing that humidity to almost vibrate in the thick air. Isla registered the change in noise only a second before Sloane growled—actually growled. Moving quickly, he pressed Isla behind him.

She froze. “What’s wrong?” Sloane was looking around them quickly, as if assessing the situation for danger.

Isla’s stomach sank. If her ill-advised walk got them both in trouble, she would never forgive herself.

Sloane growled again, and Isla blinked at the hard muscles of the man’s back. The sound was so animalistic, so primal, it made heat flood through her...right through her. It was a totally inappropriate response to the situation, but she found that she liked the sensation of being protected.

A man stepped out of the foliage and onto the path in front of them, as if he had materialized from thin air. Beneath the fingers that she discovered were clenched into the muscles of his back Isla felt Sloane’s tension go from full throttle to simply being on alert.

“Marcus.” Sloane still sounded wary, and Isla wasn’t sure why. She had seen this man briefly already, standing on the end of the dock when she had arrived. Like nearly everyone else she had seen so far that day, he was attractive, with creamy skin and neat gold hair.

Despite the heat and humidity, he wore a tidy black suit, one entirely unsuitable for walking around the jungle.

Isla found it incredibly strange that he didn’t seem to be affected by the heat at all—his suit was unwrinkled, starched even, and everything on him was tidy. It made her feel sloppy in comparison, but then, she always felt as though she’d been thrown together rather than neatly organized.

“Sloane.” The two men eyed each other warily, and Isla was put in mind of two lions facing off over a fresh kill. Then the man Sloane had called Marcus turned to look at her, and her heart jumped as she found herself on the receiving end of his intense stare.

“I was informed that a resort guest had wandered off the property.” Marcus smiled at her, but Isla noticed that the pleasant expression didn’t quite reach his pale eyes. “I have been searching for you, Miss Miller, to make certain that you were okay.”

“I saw her leave. I’ve been with her the entire time.” Isla had opened her mouth to speak, but Sloane did so before she could, the growl still evident in his voice. What was wrong with him? The other man had simply done the same thing that he had—namely, tried to save her from her own stupidity.

“If you two are quite done.” Her words were quiet, and when both men turned to stare at her, she felt herself shiver with nerves. Swallowing thickly, she lifted her chin with more bravado than she felt.

“I don’t need to be spoken for.” Sloane scowled, and though her instinct was to hush, she continued, “I’m sorry I broke the rules—I wasn’t trying to be troublesome. It was thoughtless. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to the resort and try to enjoy at least part of my vacation.” Head held high, she marched off in the direction of the resort.