Keeping Secret: Secret McQueen, Book 4 (8 page)

“Lucas…I…” Looking over my bare shoulder to seek out the aid of my fiancé, I found him standing behind me staring at the bloody mess covering my lower body. Revulsion was evident in his expression.

“What have you done?” he asked.

“N-nothing,” I stammered, feeling stupid. “I fell.”

“What have you done?” he repeated.

I continued pulling the infinite dress back, and when it finally jerked free, I wished I had left the mystery alone. The grass was black with the thick smear of blood, and my whole skirt was now ruby red and soaked with the viscous liquid. When I gagged, though, it wasn’t because of the blood.

Desmond lay beneath me, his throat open in a ragged tear, his once-white shirt now as vermillion as my gown. His violet-gray eyes, something I loved most about him, were white and dead. His skin, once dark olive thanks to his father’s Mexican roots, was ashy and looked like wax.

The hole in his neck smiled at me like a second mouth.

I tried to scramble away, but Lucas’s legs kept me pinned in place.

“Oh my God.” Pink tears streaked down my face. I fought the urge to throw myself on Desmond, to find a pulse. The second urge was to open my wrist and give him my own blood. Vampire blood could heal, maybe there was…

No. It could heal, but it couldn’t bring someone back if they were already dead.

I sobbed.

“
No
.”

“What have you done?” Lucas was staring down at me, asking the same goddamned question over and over.

“I didn’t—”

“What have you—?”

“
Shut up
,” I screamed, covering my ears to block out the broken record of questioning. What had I done? Nothing. I hadn’t done this. I would
never
do this.

The crown I was still clinging to gave a tug. When I opened my eyes, I found Lucas trying to wrench it from my grasp. “What are you
doing
?”

“This doesn’t belong to you.” Tug.

“It’s
mine
,” I snarled, my fingers tightening so fiercely the edge of a diamond bit into my palm. I’d lost Desmond. Somehow I felt if I let Lucas have this too, I’d be left with nothing.

He stooped low, his blue eyes empty of any emotion, and with one mighty yank he wrenched the crown out of my hand. “It’s not yours anymore.”

I woke up with a sharp gasp.

Beneath my cheek was a soft mass of dark chest hair and below that the warm body of a still-breathing man. Strong fingers brushed my hair away from my forehead and trailed down my neck to my lower back, tracing the place where my torso dipped into my bottom.

“You’re okay,” Desmond whispered, soothing me.

“
You’re
okay.” I turned so I was looking up at his face instead of his groin. Not that his lower half didn’t deserve a good long look over, but it wasn’t my priority at the moment. I smiled in spite of how puzzled he appeared to be, and told myself again, “You’re okay.”

“Unless sleeping has become an extreme sport, I don’t think there’s much risk to my personal safety when we’re in bed.” He grinned wickedly, and his hand moved lower to give my butt a squeeze. “That is, unless you get too frisky. Then you can imperil me whenever you want.”

I looped my arms around his waist and squeezed him, letting the warmth of his body bring my temperature up. When I slept I got cold, not freezing, but I didn’t give off the nice radiance of a human being. I was closer to room temperature, like all vampires.

“You had another dream,” he said, clearly reading my expression better than I would have liked. I didn’t need to be giving my emotions away as freely as I seemed to be doing of late.

“Yeah.”

“Judging by your reaction, it didn’t end too well for me.”

I kissed the trail of hair above his bellybutton as I cast my gaze up to watch him inhale sharply. “It doesn’t matter,” I whispered. “It was just a dream.”

But the fact of the matter was, my dreams were never
just
dreams. And what was worse, I’d had this particular dream before. My sleeping mind had tried to remind me of that, but I’d been too caught up in the moment to recognize it. When I’d first met Lucas a year earlier, I’d dreamt of running towards him in a wedding dress, only then he’d vanished to be replaced by Peyton. Days later, Peyton had almost killed me.

Now I was dreaming about Desmond’s death, and there was no way in hell I was letting that part of my dream come true.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

I didn’t feel like talking about it anymore, so I straddled his waist, rocking my pelvis against his. Dipping my head down to take his nipple in my mouth, I gave it a teasing bite. “I will be.”

Desmond groaned as I reached between us and wrapped my fingers around his hard shaft. “Looks like you woke up ready,” I teased, rubbing the head of his cock against my opening. Nightmares weren’t the best way to put me in the mood, but the thickness of him so close to me was always enough to make me crazy.

His fingers snaked into my hair, and he pulled my head down, meeting my mouth with his for a feverish, needy kiss. I traced his lips with my tongue, feeding on him, each kiss deeper and more desperate than the last. I wanted to feel him in every part of me, wanted his warmth to smother me. I guided him inside me, and he thrust up while my hand was still around him, the friction doubling as he moved his hips.

I gasped and released him, bracing both my hands on his chest as I found his frenetic rhythm. I leaned back, and his wide palms cupped my breasts, rough fingertips circling each peaked nipple until they were almost painfully rigid. He sat up, lowering his hands to my hips and squeezing almost painfully tight as I rode him, lifting me and dropping me down on his hardness. Each new thrust treaded the line between pleasure and pain, and left me panting.

When his mouth latched on to my already sensitive nipple, I cried out, my fingernails digging into the smooth, hot skin of his back. He bit down the same way I had done to him moments earlier. I continued to make animalistic noises while he dug his fingers into my hips and slammed me down on his shaft.

His own breath came in short pants, his face pressed against mine with his ear beside my mouth. Every time I cried out he thrust harder, feeding off my pleasure until we were both slick with sweat and my throat was raspy from uttering inane commands like, “
More, harder, faster, yes
.” He obliged every request until at last I screamed and he grunted our mutual release.

Desmond’s face was between my breasts, his hands still locked on my hips as we gasped together for air.

“Good morning,” he whispered into my skin, chuckling slightly since it was six in the evening.

I threaded my fingers through his black hair before lowering them over his shoulders and tracing the hot, damp planes of his back. “You sure know how to chase a bad dream away.”

He licked my nipple, and I shuddered. My whole body felt like it was charged with electric energy and every touch was a shock. Desmond smiled, clearly pleased by the reaction he got from me. “Anytime, baby. Anytime.”

I held him close until the last traces of the nightmare were gone.

Then I let him chase them off again in the shower for twenty minutes, just to be sure.

Chapter Twelve

I’d once believed my bathroom was the pinkest place on Earth.

Sitting in the waiting area of Kleinfeld Bridal, I realized how wrong my assessment had been. The whole place was plush, posh and insanely girly. Too girly. If I didn’t still have the taste of lime in my mouth from my passionate wake-up call with Desmond, I thought I might taste bubble gum and cotton candy in the air.

“Hi, hi, hi,” Mercedes said, her breath hurried as she came into the room with Kellen behind her and plopped down on the couch beside me, kissing me on the cheek. “
So
sorry we’re late. There was an accident on Lexington, and we had a hell of a time getting out of the city.”

“Why didn’t we just go to a place
in
the city?” Brigit asked. She’d come with me and was a bundle of nerves since her meeting with the council the previous evening. They hadn’t made a decision yet, and I expected she would be on edge until they did. And I understood vampires well enough to know they wouldn’t be in any special hurry to reach a conclusion.

“Because if you have money and you’re getting married in New York,
this
is where you come for your dress,” Kellen replied matter-of-factly.

She was right. I didn’t care much for planning weddings or any of this crap, but even I knew if you wanted a good dress, you came to Kleinfeld. As luck had it, between my Tribunal income and my billionaire fiancé, I was in a unique position to afford whatever dress I wanted. Kimberly hadn’t even bothered to make appointments at other stores. This was our one-stop dress shop. I was going to find my dress here or I wouldn’t find it at all.

There was the added pressure that I had to find said dress
soon
because my wedding was in two weeks. I was asking for a miracle, but the great thing about an unlimited budget was it had a habit of making miracles happen.

With my bridal party nestled around me, we had one more person we were waiting for. Kimberly, her dark hair in a pristine bun, wearing pearls with her lilac twin set and khaki pencil skirt, walked into the waiting room laughing with the middle-aged woman at her side.

“Girls.” Kimberly clapped loudly to get our attention and showed off her too-white teeth like a shark might before it ate you. “Are we ready to have some fun?”

The girls in question all grumbled their excitement. It made me want to giggle. Poor Kimberly was probably used to women tripping over themselves to get at the dresses and parade around like satin-covered Barbie dolls. Instead she got me and my equally thrilled gaggle of bridesmaids—a cop, a vampire and a been-there-done-that socialite.

Unwilling to have the cheer beaten out of her, my wedding planner smiled wider and held out a hand to shift our attention to the woman next to her, who was wearing black from head to toe and an expression that was friendly but clearly meant business.

I suspected Kimberly had used the magic words—spare no expense.

“This is Olivia. She’ll be our consultant for the evening and has assured me we can take all the time we need.” On a typical day, Kleinfeld ran on an almost military schedule with appointments, trying to get brides in and out at a rapid-fire pace so they could make as many sales as possible in as short a window as possible. To throw appointment time into the wind meant Olivia and her managers believed my single purchase would make it worthwhile.

I wasn’t used to being the center of such focused attention. Olivia was counting on me to make her commission. I guess I’d better step up and be a good little bride. Once I had a dress, I could get the hell out of here, and that would be worth whatever cost was on the tag.

“All righty,” I said with a smile, pushing myself off the squishy loveseat. “Let’s get started.”

Kimberly and Olivia left Kellen, Brigit and Mercedes in a waiting area. In this part of the salon the pinkness of the waiting room vanished, replaced by white, white and more white. I’d never seen so much colorlessness in my life. Once I was seated in a closet-sized dressing room with Olivia and Kimberly, the barrage of questions began. Cut, color—apparently a dozen different
kinds
of white existed, from linen to ivory to gold to frigging virgin snow. I thought back to my nightmare, recalling all the layers of tulle and princessy poof, and described the exact opposite. I wanted slim and elegant.

“If I see poof, I won’t even try it on,” I warned Olivia.

“Of course.” Olivia nodded sagely, making notes on her clipboard. “I’d never dream of putting you in a big dress. You’re such a petite thing.”

Kimberly put in her two cents, obviously having a specific vision of my wedding. The words
regal
and
sophisticated
got used a lot, making me wonder how Lucas had spun this wedding to her. “I want her to look like a queen,” she concluded.

“She will be unforgettable,” Olivia promised.

Fifteen minutes later a half dozen plastic bags hung in the room. The dresses trapped inside made me think of full body bags in a morgue. That thought was followed shortly by,
What the hell is wrong with me?

The first dress I tried on was a shade Olivia called blush, but I was nobody’s fool. It was pink and had a giant flower below my bustline. I gave Olivia an
are you kidding me
look, but she ignored me and presented me to Kimberly for inspection. The wedding planner regarded me with careful hesitation. She obviously didn’t want to give her opinion until she had assessed mine.

I glowered.

“Well…um…it’s
nice
.”

“Let’s go show the girls!” Olivia suggested, excitement overwhelming her.

I knew why. I’d spotted the price tag before she’d draped the rosy monstrosity over my head, and this cupcake topper of a dress was valued at a staggering twenty-five thousand dollars. I would pay that much to never look at it again.

I was paraded in front of the girls. Brigit loved it, to no one’s surprise, and Mercedes did her best to cover her laughter with a cough, but she coughed so much Olivia sent a subordinate to get Cedes some water, which made Kellen start sniggering.