NINE
Beneath Drago, Jolene's soft curves warmed his
body. Just as the sweetness of her blood now filled him. He told himself he 'd tasted her for Alex, because it was expected. But he'd been lost in Jolene when he'd sunk his teeth into her neck. Alex's expectations had been nowhere in his mind.
He stared down at her pale face, her lashes resting on her cheeks. He'd ordered her to sleep with a mental push. Achievable because her blood now ran thick in his veins. Their unique connection added to his ability to influence her. Of course, she could fight him, but she wouldn't. Not now, at least. He felt her surrender, her trust. And though she knew nothing of their mating bond, he did, and her body and soul did. As did his. He admired what she had done tonight. Admired her bravery to come here to save her friend. As a Slayer, he understood what that took. She had been willing to sacrifice herself to save her friend.
Drago let a slow breath trickle from his lips. She'd put on a good
show for the camera. Now it was his turn to do the same. It was time
to convince Alex that Jolene was under his control enough to leave and still return of her own free will.
Grinding his teeth, Drago thought of the cameras. He yanked at the silk covering and pulled it over their naked bodies. Then, and only then, he moved away, to the edge of the bed.
His mind raced as he solidified his plan to get her out of the club. To convince Alex that Jolene wasn't a risk. From there, he'd hide her until Alex forgot about her. Then, he'd come back and get Carrie. He'd save Carrie for Jolene.
The sound of the locks popping open drew Drago's attention. Catherine appeared in the doorway. She wore nothing but red thighhighs and a tiny slip of silk between her thighs. Drago wasn't blind to Catherine's beauty. He'd chosen her as his frequent bedmate for that reason. He wasn't blind to her pure evil either. She enjoyed this world as much as Alex did and not because of blood exchanges or mind control. She embraced it willingly. She wasn't at the slave camps for a reason. Catherine enjoyed breaking the innocent humans. She lived for it.
So taking Catherine, fucking her, had never felt wrong. Nor had making her submit despite her best efforts not to. For all the pain she caused so many others, it was the least he could do. “What do you want?” Drago demanded.
Her dark eyes glistened with anger. “Alex wants you.”
“Why?”
She rolled her eyes. “I don't ask Alex questions.” Drago bit back another remark. She knew what Alex wanted; they both knew it. He shoved aside the blankets, ignoring his nudity and walking to where his clothes lay on the floor. Catherine leaned against the wall and watched him dress. Though Drago gave her his back, he felt the lust within her. She wanted him. She
always
wanted him. It was as if she needed the self-torture of desiring what she couldn't have.
Once he was dressed, Drago started toward the door, stopping shoulder to shoulder with Catherine. “Let's go.” She shook her head, her breasts jiggling with the action. Drago expected she knew as much. “Alex wants me to stay and watch over her.” “What?” Drago asked. “There are cameras and locks.” He grabbed her arm. “You're coming with me.”
She smiled. Evil. “You afraid she might want me more than you?” Drago snatched the key from the wall and then grabbed Catherine's arm, moving her away from the room. Once she was in the hall, he reached for the keychain around her neck and yanked it free, ignoring her objections. Next he slammed the door shut and locked it. He held the only keys that allowed entry to where Jolene rested.
“I will have her, Drago,” Catherine hissed.
He fixed her in a steely look. “Only in your dreams, sweetheart.” Drago started walking, giving her his back. She spat nasty words at him but he tuned her out, eager to talk to Alex and get Jolene the hell out of here.
He'd die before he'd allow anyone to take Jolene but him.
Drago entered the boxlike theater booth where he'd
been told Alex awaited, knowing what to expect. Yet, as he closed the door and took in the images on the big screen directly in front of him, he wasn't prepared for his reaction. The vision of Jolene sleeping took him by storm, the thought of how close up and personal Alex had viewed their intimacy tearing at his gut.
On either side of Drago similar scenarios played out, sensual scenes on smaller screens. He told himself to look at them. To divert his attention from Jolene for fear he'd show his attachment. But he couldn't stop staring at her. She looked innocent and pure. Too pure to be here, a part of Alex's dirty world.
Drago stood, legs spread wide, arms crossed. “I ordered her to sleep.”
Alex glanced at Drago over his shoulder. “So you've opened a mental path and control her will?”
“Completely.”
Alex's expression registered approval a second before he eyed the screen to inspect Jolene a bit closer. “Such a lush piece of ass, that one.” He swiveled his rolling chair around to fully face Drago. “You've done well with her, but we must be careful. Ancient blood runs within her. She will be harder to win than the others.” A smile touched Drago's lips. “You forget that same ancient blood runs within me. Jolene isn't a problem. She will come to us willingly.” “Yes, well, she might be more of a problem than expected. As you know, I rarely choose women with family ties. I'd taken care to ensure Riker was dealt with in advance.”
Drago gave a short nod, careful to keep his expression guarded.
“Meaning?”
“He was supposed to be dead and gone.”
Alex picked his recruits carefully, always ensuring they had no family to miss them. “And he's not?” Drago asked, his brow inching upward. “Wounded, not dead.” He cut an irritated hand through the air.
“I assume the men who failed you have been dealt with.” “I took pleasure in taking their heads,” Alex said, evil lacing his tone. His eyes narrowed on Drago. “You'll need to deal with Riker before he comes for Jolene. He could easily expose our ways to the council through her.”
Drago said a silent thank-you. He'd been handed a gift. Jolene's father not only lived, but now Drago had a reason to get her out of here. “Easy enough. She'll make damn good bait.”
“Meaning what?”
“She's been trying to reach him over Carrie. I'll make sure she does. When he comes to aid her, I'll be waiting.”
Alex studied him a moment, his dark eyes indecipherable. “Very well,” he said. “You have one week.” Alex studied Drago, uneasiness radiating off of him. “Don't betray me, Drago. You might be a Slayer, but I have an army of men who outnumber you.” Drago feared nothing from Alex's men or anything else in this world. Realization washed over him then, tightening his chest. Oh, but he did have fear. He feared for Jolene. “I have no reason to betray you,” he said, his voice steady despite how rattled these new emotions regarding Jolene had him. Soon Drago would make Alex pay for what he'd put Jolene and so many others through. He'd make Alex pay for his sins.
TEN
Hours later, Drago shoved open the door to Jolene's
apartment with her in his arms. He 'd kept her in a deep sleep, determined to wake her in familiar surroundings, hoping it would lessen the blow of all she'd endured at Purple Magic.
He froze inside the entrance, ignoring the lights, his vision as clear in darkness as light. The room took him by storm, overwhelming him with its homey feeling. Though the furnishings weren't immense, they were warm. An overstuffed couch and chair. A fireplace. A square coffee table. A blanket over the back of the chair with a book sitting on the arm. Knickknacks and pictures peppered the room with family flavor. The compact kitchen overlooked the main room by way of a tiny open bar that served as a tabletop with a flower arrangement in the center.
Carrie had been ripped from a home, not just an apartment. And if fate hadn't brought Jolene to Drago, she might have told the same story.
Tightness pressed against his chest and he kicked the door shut, noting two rooms off the main one. He stepped into one of the entryways and surveyed the cluster of stuffed animals on the bed. Carrie's room, he decided.
The instant he entered the second room, he knew it belonged to Jolene, both from the strong, sexy scent of roses lacing the air, and the neat, perfectly organized decor. A smile touched his lips. He knew her well, had touched her mind, her soul. She liked order and control, just as he did. For the first time in his life, he wondered about sharing it. Jolene murmured and buried her head in his chest. A rush of tenderness overtook him. He'd never felt such a thing. His family had been killed when he'd been but a baby. He knew nothing of love, nothing of caring for others. Most considered him a cold-hearted bastard, at least in human terms, for his ruthless approach to his job. He settled Jolene on the mattress, easing back the blankets and then maneuvering her beneath them. His brows dipped as he considered her attire, a skimpy dress Catherine had given him to take her home in. She'd be asleep a few more hours. Better she rest comfortably in different clothes. He ground his teeth. Damn it to hell, he shouldn't care about her comfort. He'd seen males find softness from their mates and end up dead for their stupidity.
But even knowing this, he found himself eying the room, and walking toward a small dresser. Chaotic emotions hammered at his mind. What the hell was wrong with him? This woman had him acting like . . . well, like, a mated vampire. And nothing good could come of it. Nothing but trouble. Her own mother had been killed because of her connection to a Slayer. His parents, too. He ran a rough hand through his hair and leaned on the wooden dresser, tension thick in his body. He'd have to contact the council and demand to speak to Riker. He needed to know about his daughter and the threats from Alex so they could decide how to move forward—a phone call he dreaded. Slayers were dominant males, protectors of those who they held dear. Wrestling the mating question between him and Jolene before Riker became involved would be desirable. Unfortunately, Drago didn't have the luxury of time. Not with Alex breathing down his throat. He damn sure wasn't going to tell Riker all that had transpired at Purple Magic. Selective information is all the Slayer father would hear. Enough to save Jolene's life.
“No,” Jolene murmured, clinging to the darkness of
peaceful sleep. “ I . . . no. I don't want to wake up.”
“It's time,” a male voice said. A familiar voice, both soft and seductive. It slipped inside her dream state and become a part of it. For a moment... then reality hit. Jolene rocketed to a sitting position, her eyes catching midair with the deep, dark stare of Drago. “Where am I?” Her gaze traveled the room, frantic. She reached for memories and struggled. Shadowy images were all she could make out. Her gaze darted around the room. Her room. She was in her bedroom. At least a familiar place. Only, Drago being in her bedroom—this she didn't understand. She looked down to find herself wearing a T-shirt and boxers. “I don't even remember putting this on.”
“The longer you're awake, the more you will remember.” He stared at her, his eyes like dark coals. Lonely eyes, she realized. So damn lonely. “I brought you home last night.” She shook her head, trying to get rid of the clouds cloaking her memories. “See, this is insane. I don't even remember telling you where I live. Nothing. I remember nothing.” But a flash of their naked bodies pressed close made her breath catch in her throat. She diverted her gaze from his and clenched the sheet. “Oh God.” She couldn't quite fully bring the details to mind, but they'd done things together. Intimate, erotic things. “Okay. I remember a little.”
“The safest way to get you out of Purple Magic was to put you in a deep sleep. Almost like a coma. I didn't want to risk anyone getting into your head and deciding that your leaving the club was a risk.” He pushed to his feet. “Coffee is a stimulant. I'll make some. That'll help you clear the cobwebs.”
If his making coffee would give her a moment alone to gather her wits, then so be it. “Coffee sounds like a good idea.” Drago gave her a curt nod. “Coffee coming up.” He turned to leave, and Jolene followed his movement. A blue T-shirt clung to broad shoulders and a muscular back. Faded jeans molded strong legs and hugged a tight, incredibly nice ass. Boots scraped her hardwood floor as he exited the room. Good gosh, the man was gloriously hot.
She pressed two fingers to her forehead and forced herself to think, to pierce through the haze that filled her mind, but found it difficult. Patience not being her strength, Jolene decided to follow Drago and ask questions.
Shoving aside the blanket, she darted toward the closet, yanking a robe from the hook inside the door. She shoved her arms inside it and tied the knot around her waist. At that moment, Drago walked back into the room, his big body filling the doorway, his head almost touching the top. She'd only known one man that big and that was her father. He raised the cup. “I forgot to ask if you wanted cream or sugar?” How crazy was this? A Slayer, a “monster” to many in the vampire world, was asking what she wanted in her coffee—the coffee he was making for her in her very own kitchen.
“Cream,” she said, touched by the willingness of this warrior male to tend to her needs. Her first meeting with him, he'd come off uncaring and brutal. Now, she knew why she'd been drawn to him despite the hard shell. Because that shell covered a softer, sweeter one. “I like cream.”
His gaze dropped, sliding over her body and taking in her robe.
She felt all warm and aware, like she could melt at any moment. When his eyes lifted, he turned to leave, but not before she noted the hint of amusement in his face. “What's so funny?” she demanded, following in his footsteps, images playing in her head, becoming clearer by the minute. Images that warmed her cheeks, and then her body. Flashes of her naked body pressed intimately to Drago's, of her crying out his name in pleasure. No wonder the man was amused over her covering herself. He'd already done a personal inspection of what the robe covered. She took a minute inside the entryway of her tiny kitchen to gather her wits and consider the intensity of her attraction to Drago. There was more than sex between them. Watching him open a cabinet and search around a bit, she felt he belonged here, a part of her world. Felt a familiarity to him that expanded beyond their short time together. Is this how her father had made her mother feel?
Drago abandoned the cabinet and opened the fridge. “Is this where I would find cream?” he asked, not looking at her, but clearly knowing she was there.
“Yes. Sorry. I should have mentioned that. In the door.” Shoving her hair behind her ear, she realized her hand trembled ever so slightly. Even her knees felt a bit wobbly. Maybe she needed food. “Drago?”
Cutting her a sideways glance and setting the creamer on the counter, he turned to give her his full attention. And then he did the most remarkable thing. He answered the question she hadn't even asked, and she knew he hadn't entered her mind. She would have felt him there.
“Your memories are intact,” he said softly. “I promise. You'll remember everything.” If only she could be certain. “I've lost hours of my life, and I still don't have Carrie home with me.”
Drago stared at her a moment, his expression indecipherable, but she felt his concern. And it mattered. It mattered in a big way. She didn't want it to matter. He was a Slayer. A vampire who'd be gone in the blink of an eye.
He filled her cup, added cream and brought it to her, taking her hand in his and sliding the mug inside it. “If you will sit down, drink your coffee and give yourself some time to think, it'll come back to you.”
His touch was like rocket fuel in her blood. Awareness rushed through her body just as memories flooded her mind with dangerously sexy images. Of his taste. His touch. The perfect feel of his body pressed to hers. Reeling from it all, she took a step backward and his hand, thankfully, fell away. Needing something to do, anything, she brought the cup to her lips. The coffee was warm. She was hot. She gulped it, praying the caffeine would help her clear her fuzzy thoughts. Drago brought the pot to her and she held the mug out for a refill.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Why don't we go sit?” he urged, his voice too calming, too gentle for his dark, almost menacing exterior.
Her heart beat like a drum in her chest as Jolene turned in silent agreement, wondering again, why she felt so close to Drago. Regardless of what might have happened at Purple Magic, they had only met a short time ago.
Settling onto the single chair in the living room, she intentionally put space between herself and Drago, concluding her potent attraction to him indicated distance to be wise. Drago claimed a spot on the couch, still close to her, giving her space, but with limits. He could still reach out and touch her, still lean his leg a bit and brush it against hers. She found herself wishing for that contact. She damn near ached for it.
“You saved me from Alex, didn't you?” she asked, thinking back to the prior night. His eyes flashed, his response fast and hard. “I wasn't about to allow Alex to touch you.” The hint of possessiveness in his words surprised her, and shockingly, warmed her inside out. She'd never wanted a man to try to stake a claim on her, always valued her independence. But his words, his demeanor, didn't offend her as they would with another. They seduced and soothed.
“Thank you,” she said. “I went there prepared to do anything to save Carrie, but when it came down to it, I didn't want Alex, or any of those people to touch me.” Emotion welled inside. “I feel I failed her. I couldn't have let Alex touch me.”
“You shouldn't have gone there,” he said, reprimand in his voice. She cut him a hard look. “Someone had to save Carrie. I didn't see you volunteering.”
“I would have saved Carrie.”
“Would have?”
“Will. I always planned to save her. I was undercover. couldn't tell you what was going on, and I damn sure wasn't encouraging you to go to Purple Magic.”
Relief flooded her at his declaration. “Carrie's alive then?” He gave a quick nod. “Alex won't kill her unless she becomes a problem. He uses the women for pleasure. Part of my assignment is to locate the slave camps Alex keeps and rescue the women.” Slave camps. Sex slave camps. What a horrible place to be. Her heart hammered against her chest, fear taking hold. “How do we know Carrie isn't a problem and in danger?” “He considers Carrie leverage.”
Somehow, she knew she wouldn't like what came next. “Leverage?” “A Slayer's daughter is the ultimate conquest to Alex. He wants you, Jolene. And once he decides he wants someone he doesn't give up. He even tried to have your father killed to ensure he couldn't come after you.”
Jolene could barely breathe at the thought of her father being dead. Her hands gripped the arms of the chair. She needed reassurance. “My father is okay, right?” Drago gently eased one of her hands free of the chair. “He's not only okay, he's on his way here.”
Jolene's gaze dropped to their joined hands. “I haven't seen my father in years,” she murmured, her eyes lifting to his. “After my mother died, he stopped visiting.” “I'm sure he has reasons.”
“Reasons?” Anger stirred, a product of years of hurt. “What reason could there be to avoid your own daughter?” She tried to jerk her hand away, but he didn't allow her escape. One second she was in the chair, the next she was sprawled across his lap. “Let go of me,” she demanded, trying to get up.
He held her with ease. “I can't do that.”
She struggled. “Drago! Stop!”
His fingers laced into her hair, angling her mouth to his. He kissed her then, and try as she might to resist, she felt her body ease of its own accord, melting with each stroke of his tongue. Tender strokes. Gentle strokes. A kiss meant to calm, to make love. And right now, unsettled and confused as she felt, he was the calm in the middle of a storm. A storm she feared had only just begun to show its fury. And with that kiss, she found the events of the night before clearly spelled out in her mind. When she found herself resting forehead to forehead with Drago, she admitted as much.
“I remember now,” she whispered, leaning back to look at him, searching his face, trying to understand the meaning of it all. Some things didn't add up. “You spoke to me through a mental path. I thought vampires could only do that if they were blood relations.” “Vampires influence humans through a mental path, but communication isn't possible. With a blood relative, a mental path exists.” “But you talked to me. I know you talked to me.”
He hesitated. “There is one other bond that allows this communication.” A knock sounded on the door. “That will be your father. Before you answer the door, Jolene—He was distraught when I talked with him. I know it upsets you that he doesn't visit, but he blames himself for your mother's death and now he blames himself for Alex targeting you.” The knock sounded again. “You better get it.” Jolene drew a calming breath. “This is crazy. I'm nervous about seeing my own father.”
Drago kissed her forehead. “That'll be gone the instant you see him.”
He was right, of course. The knock sounded again, and her father's voice filled the air. “Jolene!”
“Coming!” she called, and forced herself into action, finding the entranceway in seconds. She yanked open the door to reveal her father. Tall with dark auburn hair, he looked every bit the mighty Slayer, authority oozing from him as readily as did danger. His attitude of “move or be moved” was as much a part of him as his standard leather pants and leather jacket.
He stepped forward, barely glancing in Drago's direction, his attention on his daughter. Riker shut the door behind him and then pulled Jolene close, embracing her with the force of a man who'd felt pain. She could barely breathe, her feet dangling off the ground, but Jolene didn't complain. She'd missed him so much that tears welled in her eyes; she realized how lonely she'd been since the death of her mother, how empty. “I can't believe how close I came to losing you,” he whispered in her ear before settling her back and releasing her. “I'm fine, thanks to Drago,” she said, eyeing Drago, who now stood watching them, tension in his body, in his face, and she wondered why. “I guess Drago explained what's going on. About my roommate disappearing and all.” Riker gave Drago a nod. “He did and he told me Alex is after you.
Which is exactly why you're packing a bag and coming with me.”
Jolene shook her head. “I have to get Carrie back.” “This isn't a discussion,” Riker countered. “Pack a bag. You've got ten minutes.”
Suddenly, Drago stood behind her, and before he even spoke a word, his possessiveness claimed the room. “I'm afraid I can't let her leave.”
Riker stiffened and Jolene stared at Drago in shock. “You dare to challenge her father?” Riker half growled.
Jolene looked from one Slayer to the other, the room crackling with testosterone, both men trying to make her choices for her. Well, they were both about to learn a lesson. No one decided the who, where, what and when of her life but her.
Not her father. And not Drago.