The Better to Eat You With: The Red Journals (15 page)

He
followed me, closing the door, saying, “Pot, kettle, black, pet.”

I grinned
over my shoulder, ignoring the fluttering in my stomach as his smooth
east-London
 
accent poured over
me. “I never said I was noble.” I moved over to the bedside table, taking up my
chains and putting them around my wrists

“But you
clean up so well.” He came up behind me, and I froze as his hands settled big
and warm on my waist.

With him
at my back, the memories of what we had done on the plane came back stronger,
how good grinding on him felt. My lips parted on a small gasp as his lips
brushed the exposed column of my neck, and my knees almost buckled, a faint
hint of the heat blooming demandingly between my legs scenting the air.

Clearing
my throat, shame a heavy weight in my stomach, I turned around to face him,
smiling as I fastened the last chain around my wrist. “So, where are we going
tonight?”

Felix
eyed me for a moment, a slight hint of confusion momentarily clouding his
features, but in the end, he took a small step back, giving me space, and a
familiar hint-of-dimple grin. “All of
 
Illinois’s
finest will be at a specific location tonight, wining, dining, mingling, and
stuffing each other’s egos with new connections.” He drawled, turning away to
go sprawl elegantly on the sofa. “I have a contact amidst the ton, who has
informed me that Ambrose is on the guest list, moonlighting as a Mr. Geoffrey
Carver, a dazzling entrepreneur for one of the largest corporations for the
military government this side of the military itself. My contact has worked for
his company for nearly five years now, and considers her position quite stable.
We, pet, are going to mingle.”

I
wondered over to the sofa and, seeing no other way to sit with some dignity
with all that skirt around my legs, contented myself with just flopping back
onto the cushions. “Which corporation?” I asked, and then answered my own
question. “G.C. Logistics.” I shook my head. “That place isn’t just military. It’s
worldwide travel, government tech-support, major shopping malls, business
financing, private art dealings, international trade, and more. That
corporation is huge!”

“Hence,
why Ambrose is a Vampire without a base. He travels around so much, constantly
flitting from each branch, with the excuse that he likes to keep himself
involved. He also has an unlimited supply of liquid assets.” Felix shook
his head. “Among mortals, the man is considered a genius. Making him disappear
will be difficult, no matter how obstinate he is with the press about his
private life.”

Speaking
of…
 
“Is he in disguise too?” I asked. “I’ve
never seen his picture. The only description I have of him is medium length
dark hair, brown eyes, six feet tall and a Vampire.” I shrugged. “That
describes about eighty percent of
 
America
 
without the Vampire bit.”

Felix
nodded. “You wouldn’t have seen his picture; he refuses to speak with the press
if cameras are present. I’ll know him when I see him though, and so will you. In
so much human company, I doubt he’ll even bother to hide his power signature so
diligently.”

I tilted
my head as I smoothed my hands down the satin over my lap. “Have you met him
before?”

“Yes,”
Felix replied, rolling gracefully to his feet and coming to stand in front of
me. “He’s not as strong as I am in power, but he has a certain…presence about
him. He’s charismatic and attracts people, so his following, though small when
I knew him, has grown. I worry more for those he’s influenced and his children,
than for Ambrose himself.” He held out his hands.

“What
will you do with him once you catch him?” I asked, sliding my hands into his
and letting him pull me up. He didn’t step back this time, but instead held me
close, pressing us together. My breath hitched.

“He’s a
sociopath. He’s killed on a fit of temper, tortured with the excuse of
garnering information, taken what he wanted whether his companion was willing
to give it or not. He has no conscience and he likes it. He’s perfected his
façade with allure and brilliance. He’s nothing more than a pampered,
rabid dog.” The weight of his hand slid down my hip and over my backside, the
erotic pulse it sent through me warring with the cold lump in my chest caused
by his words.

“How come
he hasn’t been taken care of before now? By the sounds of it, he’s been
building on this for a while.” His appeal and connections suggested Ambrose had
been selling himself like a prime politician for some time. His face might not
be well known, but the Carver name was a pass key to any organization in the
world. I was surprised if we didn’t have a President Carver already!

“He has,
and he’s been very good at convincing certain unhappy yet powerful clans to
join in with his campaign. They keep blocking us from bringing him in civilly. They’ve
left us no choice but to follow the less polite route now.” His hand massaged
my backside through the satin of my gown, his fingers dipping ever lower to the
crease between my thighs. I was near panting now, screaming at myself to move
away, but his touch felt so good, and it had been so long…so, so long.

“What
will happen if less polite doesn’t work?” I was breathless, mesmerized by the
intensity in his jade eyes, the tingle of danger about him that was as
provocative as his bold touch.

“The kind
of regimen he’s trying to bring about will make all immortals subservient to
his will, and mortals nothing but slaves to do his bidding. I can’t let him do
that.” His eyes met mine, gold flecks sparking softly, his jaw rigid with the
effort of retaining the fierceness of his emotions. “I won’t.”

His hand
pressed deeper between my legs, and a rush of heat ran right up my body to my
face, making my breath hitched. Forcing an airy demeanor, I smiled, “In that
case, how about we crack on with this hunt?” I plucked his hands off me with
trembling fingers. “Eye on the ball, not hands on the butt.” I moved away,
wondering if the thrum in my ears was an electrical appliance about to blow
somewhere, or the ridiculously fast beating of my heart.

“I may be
male,” Felix said, as I scooped up my tiny sparkly purse and dropped my phone
into it, “but I
 
can
 
multitask.” His voice had dropped
to something hot and sultry, and tremors moved through me in response, despite
myself—luscious liquid-fire pooling. No doubt he could smell my arousal. There
was no getting away from the perfume in the air, one I’m sure he was all too
familiar with. His wicked little grin confirmed it as I shifted uncomfortably
in my damp panties.

If this
was going to keep happening, I might need to take a spare pair of panties with
me whenever Felix was around.

Or
don’t wear any at all?
Shuddup! Damn, traitorous body.

“Then
tell me where we’re going as we walk?” I coaxed, keeping my distance as I
headed for the door. He followed, doing that eye-catching, rolling swagger of
his that just oozed sex. Damn him… why couldn’t he be ugly? Or at least,
unattractive to me?

“You’d be
surprised how deft I am at doing several things at once, pet,” he said, the
statement full of innuendos as he arched a brow at me. “Like blood-donations
and chocolate orange orgasms.”
 

And
there it was.

Blushing
from head to toe, I spluttered as I pulled my door shut, “That was just pot
luck!”

He
strolled toward the elevators and did a graceful turn on his heel to face me.
“The
blood or the orgasm?” he drawled.

My face
burned hotter.
“Both!” The elevator dinged, and the
doors slid smoothly open. Inside was a myriad of mirrors and gold. I frowned
and peered inside. “What hotel are we in?” I asked, gingerly stepping inside,
afraid a bit of misdirected immortal strength might chip the beautiful filigree
etched in the glass.

“The
Waldorf Astoria, of course,” Felix replied smoothly as he hit the ground floor
button and the doors slid shut. My brows shot in my hairline as I stared at my
dull reflection in the elevator doors.

“Really?”
I blinked.
 
That explained the
W.A. on the terry robe.
 
“I’ve
never stayed here before,” I murmured softly, slightly awed.

“Don’t
like luxury?” he asked, meeting my gaze in the doors.

“More
like the price. What’s the point in spending a ridiculous amount of money on a
room I’ll only sleep in?” I straightened and looked back at him haughtily. “As
long as the bed is comfy, the rest don’t matter.”

He arched
a brow and gave me that dimple-hinting grin that was all kinds of wicked.
“Indeed,” he purred, and my temperature ratcheted once more.

Damn Vampire.

The drive
to ‘the function’, as Felix kept calling it, took about half of an hour, but
with the evening’s traffic, Felix estimated it might take longer. I didn’t know
where we were going, and Felix didn’t seem particularly inclined at that moment
to tell me. I didn’t push it; I knew I’d find out once we got there. Either
way, the limo driver seemed in no rush as he cruised leisurely through Chicago
city traffic. In the meantime, Felix coached me on who I was to be. He was
sprawled on the back seat watching me, while I perused a file about the
identity he had nurtured over the last few years as if it were a five-star
restaurant menu.

“Alistair
Walter-Harvey.” I arched a brow at the decadent Vampire. “Say that ten times
fast.”

His lips
quirked but he said nothing.

Alistair
Walter-Harvey was apparently a well-to-do English businessman who came from a lot
of old money. The Walter-Harvey’s were apparently descended from the first Duke
of Wellington. I highly doubted it, but I guessed Felix had played it so well
that no one had bothered to check. Alistair was CEO of his own company, and
travelled around a lot, visiting his plants and offices, inspecting production
and approving new lines.

When
asked what this fantasy company actually produced, Felix had shrugged and said,
“Data syntax and programming for superior wireless military communications.”

I could
only blink at him blankly before returning to the file. “So, my name is…” I
scowled up at him, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Wendy? Seriously?” I
slumped back against the seat. “I didn’t like that name even when it was
popular.”

“Yes,
Wendy.”

“Not even
Peter Pan could make me like
that
name! Jeez…”

He
smiled, looking as viciously satisfied as a snake. “Wendy Walter-Harvey—”

“Good
God, I sound like a Marvel Comics character!”

“—is an
only daughter from a middle-class family, who once worked for Alistair’s rival.
He knew her by reputation alone before meeting her, knowing that she was part
of the mastermind behind many of Walter-Harvey’s losses.” His head tilted and
he regarded me with heated eyes. I almost shivered. “Alistair and Wendy met at
an awards function and he stole her away.” His smile broadened. “It’s a love
match.”

I rolled
my eyes.

“Wendy is
Alistair’s personal advisor,” he continued. “She accompanies him to all
meetings, all functions, and advises him on new products and deals, right down
to stocks and shares.”

“How the
hell am I supposed to pull this off? I don’t know anything about stocks and
shares. It’s why I have an accountant!”

His brows
shot up. “You have an…” Comprehension cleared his features. “Your security
system, same guy?”

I beamed.
“He is so very, very clever.” I wagged my fingers at him with a saucy grin. “Marvelous
talents.”

I got a
brow arch and then suddenly- “Eep!” I was flat on my back, my ankle in his
tight fist, sliding toward him across the smooth, butter-soft leather. “Let go.
You’re wrinkling my dress.”
Is that breathless, husky voice mine?
I
tugged on my foot.
Well shit, I think it is.

“How
about I show you some of my…” His eyes locked with mine, his fingers trailing
up the back of my calf, rasping softly against the silk stocking, “Talents.”

The way
he dropped his voice, making it all deep and gravely, making that one simple
word sound positively sinful. I couldn’t hold back the shiver that rippled
through me as he started to prowl over.

“Wait!” I
pressed my heel-clad free foot to his chest, halting him. “Wait, I—”

“Red?”
His brows arched, and he gave a look so pointed, I just froze, mouth hanging
open. “I’m going to kiss you.”

I sucked
in a sharp breath. “Why?”

“Well…”
His wicked lips turned up at the edges. My breath practically wheezed out as
everything he
didn’t
say hung between us. He didn’t mention what had happened
on the plane. He didn’t mention how the taste of his blood had made me sizzle
through and through. He didn’t mention how I had grinded on him until we both
came.

He didn’t
have too. It was all there in that one word.

Holy
hell, Red. You might be in trouble here.
Ya think?

Felix’s
hand cupped the back of my knee. His other slowly slid around my ankle over his
chest. He jerked. I slid even closer, my inner thigh pressed to his hip, my
ankle going over his shoulder, my skirts riding up even further. His hand
settled on the leather seat beside me, and he leaned in, opening me wide to
him.

My
breaths came in quick pants, my mind nothing but a jumble of sensation and incomplete
thoughts racing at five-hundred miles an hour. All the reasons for not letting
this happen that I’d articulated back at the hotel escaped me. Swamped under
his addictive scent and unwavering gaze, I’m not sure I wanted to fight. Guilt
be damned. My reservoir of excuses was dry. Empty. Burned away by the sparkling
intensity of his presence, his close proximity.

His
breath brushed my cheeks, fanning cool across my skin, his jade eyes danced
bright as tumbling jewels. His pupils were completely blown, and steadfast in
their focus on me. My mind flashed with a brief acknowledgement that Felix must
get this same expression when hunting.

“Sir?” I
flinched at the sound of a soft voice through the intercom. “We’re here.”

Felix
growled, flashing incredibly long fangs before dropping his forehead to my
collarbone. His lips brushed the swell of my breast, making my whole body
shiver in response, heat flaring.

“Guess
traffic wasn’t that bad after all,” I managed to say, though my throat was
tight, my body tense with expectation. With a pained groan, Felix lifted
himself off me and slumped against the seat. I swung my legs around and shoved
my skirts down to my ankles, clearing my throat and trying to dislodge the lump
there. Out the corner of my eyes, I saw Felix shift, as if uncomfortable, and
heave a big sigh despite his fierce scowl.

I turned
to look at him as he pulled a fine, gold-framed pair of glasses from his inner
pocket, and slipped them onto his nose. The small accessory completed his transformation
from deadly Vampire to handsome entrepreneur in a heartbeat, making the results
positively breathtaking.

He held
out his hand to me. “Ready to play, Wendy?”

I slid
mine into his without hesitation. “Game on, Alistair.”

Le Grand
Reve was a decadent sprawling mass of French architecture across twenty-seven-thousand
square foot, and boasted as many as twenty-six rooms, as well as a ten-car
garage space. As I stood before the four-column entrance, I could well believe
it. The place was immense, glowing like a star on earth in the dark of night,
warm and mysterious and inviting, almost ethereal in its beauty.

The
Chateau style setup appealed to me on every possible level, feeding every
feminine part of me that wanted to be pampered in this fantasy land
made
for
pampering. As I stood in the entrance, taking in the splendor of the Tiffany
stained dome and the two sweeping artistic stairwells with black railings
leading up to the second floor, I felt breathless with excitement.

One
day
, I told myself,
One
day I’ll have this.

Aware of
all the people around us, watching us, knowing they knew Alistair but not his
wife, I decided to give them a taste. “Darling?” I tugged on Felix’s sleeve
until he turned to me. I gave him a sultry pout. “I want,” I stated simply. His
eyes sparkled behind his glasses as his lips curved with amusement.

“It’s
overdone and overpriced, dear,” he replied, trying to be stern with his proper
English accent, despite my hands trailing up the satin lapels of his tux.

“But
there are so many rooms.” I purred, my fingers playing with the soft hair
brushing his shirt collar as I pressed close, looking up at him through my
lashes. “It will take forever to christen them all.”

His lips
twitched, and his hands glided over my hips to press into the base of spine. Against
my stomach was the reason for the uncomfortable shift in the back of the limo.
“If you wish to christen rooms, dear, I’ll buy you a hotel. At least then we’ll
be able to make money back on it.”

“If you
want a hotel, I insist you take me back to that quaint little one on Lake
Garda.” I smiled softly, dropping my voice to a husky whisper. “I liked walking
around naked.”

A deep
laugh sounded beside us, startled and delighted. Felix turned his head and
smiled. Following his gaze, I met a pair of sparkling blue eyes, laugh lines
creasing the corners of a matured, handsome face and a ravishing smile. Blond
hair streaked with silver swept back casually to reveal a face that was only
made younger by the fine lines of age, not older.

“Eddie,
old boy, how are you?” Felix shook the man’s hand with a casual familiarity
that transformed his otherworldly looks into remarkably attractive mortal.

“Al, good
to see you. Thought I’d be bored out of my mind at this damn party. Thank God
you’re here.” Those blue eyes swung back to me and I smiled. Those eyes were…
unnerving. Too intelligent, seeing too much.
Politician? Must be.

“I must
confess that attending was not my idea,” Felix answered smoothly, his accent
sweeping away all hints of east-London, and making it all the Queen’s English. He
turned to me then. “My wife got wind of the location and refused to be denied.”

“Oh,
please.” I lightly slapped his arm. “Any place that names itself ‘The Big
Dream’ demands an inspection.” I slipped my arm around Felix’s waist under his
jacket. “It certainly hasn’t disappointed.”

Felix
laughed. “Edward Bauer, this is my wife, Wendy. Wendy, this is Edward Bauer,
political rival to the Illinois Senator.”

Holy
crappers.
This guy was
a potential ally to the mysterious Ambrose, furthering his goals for office by
setting himself in line with a psychopathic Vampire. Hell, if he even knew it
was a Vampire. For all the sharpness in that blue gaze, there were some things
mortals just didn’t want to see, and usually didn’t. Either way, this bloke was
dangerous. Obama was once Senator. Now he’s President. Anything was possible,
especially with a Vampire clearing the path for you.

“Utterly
charmed,” Edward replied, paying me his most winning smile as he took my hand.
“After hearing that, uh…
heated
debate, how could I not be?” He laughed a
deep, rich laugh that was designed to ingratiate friendship—however false.

“Her
compromising is relentless,” Felix replied. “Believe me.”

“I always
said,” Edward raised his tumbler with a finger of amber liquid, “can’t argue
with a woman.”

I patted
Felix’s chest. “I like him. He’s smart.” They both laughed.

The
conversation was cut short when a high-pitched squeak rendered the air, the
syllables forming Edward’s name. His head whipped around with a frown as he
peered over the pressing crowd. He turned back with a sigh. “My ball and chain
calls. I will find you later, Al.”

Felix
smiled. “I will be here somewhere.”

Once the
blonde politician was gone, Felix urged me through the crowd to the bar,
sticking close as we moved through the throng of people. “He’s one of Ambrose’s,
isn’t he?” I asked. The sights, sounds and smells were nearly overwhelming, and
Felix, in his guise as Alistair, seemed to know everyone.

“Balls
deep, pet,” He murmured back. “Balls deep.”

I played
my role as charming wife, talking business when needed, but generally steering
clear of it—just in case. I could pass off as anyone as long as no one else
knew much about the subject.

And who
the hell else would know about data syntax and programming for superior
wireless military communications?

One thing
I did notice, though, was that the majority of the guest list weren’t just
over-ambitious twits looking for a free-ride. These were intelligent,
determined people who saw a destination in life and would do anything to get
there. They all had that same gleam in their eyes that Edward Bauer did—sharp,
focused, and, if need be, deadly. God forbid any other mortal should stand in
their way.

And God
forbid Ambrose should find need to advance such people. These people, if given
the chance, could change history. That kind of shove behind a sociopathic Vampire
looking to rule the Immortal world was enough to topple the scale in the
sociopath’s favor if he played it right.

Jeepers,
Red. Could you pick more precarious ground? What would be the fun in that?

After two
hours of wandering through the crowd and chatting with everyone—time which I
used to scope out for any Immortals, and found none— my throat was scratchy and
my feet were hurting like hell. I am a firm believer that a woman’s foot is not
made to be poised on the ball for hours on end, unless it’s a man’s balls.