The Order Boxed Set (58 page)

Ryan appeared undecided. She’d rather this didn’t get physical, and she was sure the debriefing thing wasn’t optional for the detective. Though she supposed Piers or Christian could just mesmerize him into going with them. She’d rather they didn’t do that to her friends either. “Wouldn’t you like to know what this is all about?” Roz said, sure that would tempt Ryan.

“You mean they’ll tell me?”

“Why not? You know a lot already.”

“Too much?” he asked, and she realized he believed his life was in danger. Hell, maybe it was. She glanced at Piers and Christian. Piers just looked impatient to be off.

Christian answered. “You won’t come to any harm at our hands, Detective. But we do have to decide how to deal with the fact that you know about us.”

“Deal?” He turned to Roz. “You trust these people?”

“Yeah. If they say no harm, then they mean it.”

Roz believed that, but she’d bet he might come away from the place minus a few memories. Probably best not to tell him, though—most people didn’t like the idea of anyone screwing with their minds.

“Can we go now?” Piers said.

Carl and his men had already climbed into the back of the larger van. Sister Maria was still seated in the front, though a quick glimpse showed that some of the color had returned to her face. Ryan got in beside her, and Christian got in the driver’s seat.

“I’ll make my own way there.” Asmodai said. “But first, I need to give a few people a heads up that Andarta has the Key. As soon as I’m done, I’ll meet you at the Order.” He took to the air. That just left her, Piers, and the Warlock for the second vehicle.

“Can you drive, Jonas?” Piers asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, get in, then.”

…

Piers ushered her into the backseat and climbed in beside her. He was trying to keep a tight grip on his emotions. Mainly because he wasn’t sure what they were yet, and until he was, maybe he’d better keep quiet about them.

He could smell the sweet scent of her blood, and it was driving him insane—a reminder that he had come so close to losing her tonight. He forced down the urge to hold her. Instead, he turned slightly so he could see the dark streak of blood down her throat where the knife had nicked her skin.

Hell, he’d seen the knife jerk in Jack’s hands, and he’d thought she was dead.

He couldn’t resist any longer. Reaching for her, he grabbed her by the upper arms, and hauled her onto his lap. He expected her to put up a struggle, but instead, she melted into him, wrapping her arms around his waist, and burrowing her head in his chest. All the tension went out of her. Then she was shaking.

He held her tight and just let her get through it.

After a few minutes, she raised her head. “Sorry, I thought I was okay—I don’t usually lose it like that.”

He liked the fact that she let herself go with him. She acted so tough, but underneath…well, he wasn’t sure what was underneath; she kept it so well hidden. He was sure no one else knew either.

She was clearly coming down from the adrenaline high.

His gums ached with the urge to feed. He reined his hunger in, but lifted her chin with one finger, bent his head, and licked his tongue along the line of her throat, cleaning the blood, lapping at the small wound.

She made a small sighing sound, and her head went back, giving him better access. “That feels so good.”

“We have a chemical in our saliva that helps heal wounds.”

She lowered her head and regarded him. “That was more information than I wanted right now.”

An unpleasant thought occurred to him. “Have you slept with Asmodai?”

“None of your goddamn business.”

“I take it that’s a yes.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I can quite honestly say that I have never slept with him. Now, if you’d asked me if I fucked him—well, that’s a whole different thing. And still none of your goddamn business.”

“And if I’d like it to be my business?”

She opened her mouth, no doubt to shout at him some more, but snapped it shut again. He’d actually managed to silence her. She stayed that way for what seemed like an age, staring out of the window.

“I was seventeen and a virgin. They’d burned my mother at the stake, and I’d just made a deal with a demon. He slaughtered those who had killed my mother, and he took me on the ground with the flames all around us and their screams still in my ears.”

Fury rose up inside him. “Bastard—I’ll kill him.”

She smiled. “No need. And in his way, he was good to me. I haven’t met many demons but I suspect things could have been far worse.”

“Was that the only time?”

“No. And he didn’t rape me then or later, if that’s what you think. I was scared, alone; he had saved me. I know it sounds pathetic, but I wanted him to want me. And in his way, I think he came to like me a little. ” She glanced at him suspiciously. “How long have you known it was Asmodai?”

“I didn’t until tonight. I just suspected from his involvement with the Key.” He bit back the urge to ask if she had enjoyed it, because that was just sick. He had to put it out of his mind. “Just tell me it’s over.”

“It’s been over for centuries. He changed. Can demons become nicer? He’s sort of mellowed in recent years; he seems different…”

“He was in love.”

“What?”

“He fell in love with Tara’s mother. I guess it brought out a softer side. Then she died and he reverted a little.”

“Anyway, there have been a few other men over the years, but I tend to steer clear of relationships. I can do without sex.”

“Hence the vibrator.” He thought for a moment. “You wanted to sleep with me last night.”

She shrugged. “Only to take my mind off the fact that I was about to die, and sex is no big deal.”

“No?” She was lying. He was sure of it. Or at least he hoped. “Tell me, how long has it been since you had sex?”

She pursed her lips. “Fifty years, give or take a few.”

He bit back the grin that tugged at his lips. Inside he was high-fiving, and he realized that he wanted sex to be a big deal for her. At least he wanted sex with him to be a big deal. “You like sex, so if it was no big deal you’d be getting it regularly. I’m guessing you don’t have sex because it
is
a big deal.”

“Just don’t push it,” she snarled.

She was getting defensive; he was definitely getting through to her. “What if I want to push it?”

“Save it. I’ve had a rough night, and I’d like to relax. Hey, look, we’re nearly back. I’m for a long hot bath, a glass of scotch, and my bed.”

“And I’m for a couple of hours of earth shattering sex and mind-blowing orgasms. Sure I can’t tempt you to join me?”

…

Crap.

Roz sat there with her mouth open, her nipples hard, and her sex hot and swollen with need.

The weird thing was if he’d tried to woo her with sweet words, told her he’d cared, she could have sneered and walked away.

But who could walk away from the offer of earth-shattering sex and mind-blowing orgasms? It would take a stronger woman than her. Did that make her shallow?

No, just scared of emotional commitment and desperate for sex.

She suddenly realized that the car had stopped and that they were back in the underground parking area beneath the Order. Or above the Order.

Somehow, Jonas had gotten out of the driver’s seat without her even noticing. Piers had that effect on her. He was dangerous. And sexy as hell.

Of course, she could just stay here. Sex in the backseat of a car with Piers. And it would avoid having to wait. She wasn’t sure she could wait. She turned to suggest it just as the van pulled up beside them, and she swore. Maybe they could just stay very still and pretend they weren’t here.

When they didn’t move, someone knocked on the tinted window. Piers sighed and reached across to open her door. She scrambled out, and Piers got out behind her. Roz was aware of little other than his tall form against her back. He leaned in close. “Multiple mind-blowing orgasms,” he whispered in her ear, sending shivers down through her body and turning her insides liquid.

“So are we meeting in your office?” Christian asked.

She tried to make sense of the words as she glanced back over her shoulder. Piers was watching her out of heavy-lidded eyes. “Well?” he asked.

“Multiple—as in more than one?”

“Lots more than one.”

She nodded once, and he released his breath.

He turned briefly to Christian. “Later. We should wait for Asmodai anyway. Call me when he gets here.” Then he put his hands around her waist and tossed her over his shoulder. For one second she considered complaining, but only one, and then she relaxed. She could feel the bunching of his muscles as he moved. He was hard like steel.

“Where the hell are you going?” Christian asked.

Piers paused. “I’m going to debrief Rosamund.”

Roz sniggered again, burying her flaming face against his back and screwing her eyes up tight as she passed the small group.

She didn’t open them until Piers gripped her around the waist and tossed her away. She let out a little yelp as she landed on her back on something soft. She lay in the middle of the biggest bed she had ever seen, in the center of a room with no windows and dark red walls. The sheets beneath her matched the walls, as did the mound of pillows beneath her head.

Piers loomed over her, his eyes dark midnight blue. He unbuckled the shoulder holsters and dropped them to the floor. He did the same with the weapons belt at his waist. Then he pulled the black T-shirt over his head, and her breath caught in her throat.

He was spectacular. Roz came up on her elbows so she could see him more clearly. If he was putting on a show for her, she wasn’t going to miss any of it. His skin was pale, almost glowing with a luminescent sheen, satin stretched over the swell of muscle. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow, his chest smooth except for a sprinkle of fine golden hair between his pale, almost flat nipples.

His belly was lean, and another strip of golden hair bisected the ridged plane disappearing into his waistband. The black leather pants were a stark contrast to his pale skin. They rested low on his hips, and she could see the bulge of his erection pressing against the zipper.

Her mouth was suddenly dry, and she swallowed. She rolled over, came up on all fours, and crawled toward him, stopping at the edge of the bed and coming onto her knees in front of him. She looked up the line of his body, meeting his dark gaze, then reached out and stroked her finger along the length of his erection beneath the soft, supple leather.

He groaned and his head went back, his hands fisting at his side. She liked that, and she stroked again, loving the tension that stiffened his body. The zipper was right in front of her, and she toyed with it for a second, but she didn’t want to put this off any longer. After flicking open the button, she slowly lowered the zipper. He wore nothing underneath, and his shaft sprang free, almost vertical against his belly. She sat back on her heels and admired him in wondrous silence.

He was beautiful, thick and long, the head flaring and blushed pink with blood. Wet heat soaked her core at the thought of all that thrust inside her. Her hand came out, and she wrapped her fingers around him—his flesh was cool to the touch, and she squeezed so he let out another groan.

She wanted to taste him, and her head came forward, her lips parting, but he stepped back and pulled free.

“Later,” he murmured. “Right now, I need to be inside you.”

“You do?”

“Well, it’s a little hard to hide.”

He kicked off his boots and stripped off the leather pants.

Roz was impressed. She’d worn leather pants a few times, and she’d never managed to get out of them quite that quickly. It must be all the practice.

She was still kneeling on the bed, fully clothed. Piers was naked. It didn’t seem fair and besides, she was slowing things down. Grabbing the bottom of her T-shirt, she dragged it over her head and tossed it to the floor. Her bra quickly followed. She kicked off her sneakers, rolled onto her back, and wriggled out of her jeans and panties.

There, they were even.

For a second, Piers stood staring down at her, his eyes glowing with power, his hot gaze raking over her body. Then he knelt on the bed over her. She scooted back, and he crawled after her, stalking her like some great beast.

Her insides melted, her nipples tightened, and a throbbing pulse beat between her thighs. She arched her back, offering her breasts, and he lowered his head, took one swollen peak between his lips, and suckled. The pleasure shot straight to her groin and a small gasp escaped her. She threaded her fingers through his long, silky hair and held him close as her kissed her other breast. Her thighs fell open, and he shifted so one knee slid between and pushed up against her. The sensation was indescribably good, but she needed more, and she needed it soon.

If she didn’t have him inside in the next few seconds, she would go seriously insane. Might even bite him. She fisted her hand in the hair at the back of his head and tugged, and he raised his head so she could stare into his face. The expression in his eyes nearly made her come.

“Okay, enough foreplay,” she muttered. “I need you inside me.” He chuckled, and she tugged at his hair again. “Are you going to bite me?”

“Would you like me to?”

Roz had a flashback to coming apart in his arms. She wanted that again while he was deep inside. She nodded, and he smiled, revealing his fangs, as though to let her see exactly what he was. No secrets. No nasty surprises.

Then he was kissing her cheek, her lips, her ear, licking, tasting, nibbling his way closer to her throat, and despite the fact she knew there would be no pain, every nerve was taut waiting for his bite.

“Relax.” His soft voice sent shivers rippling through her. “I’ll tell you when.”

He shifted so his hips rested between her thighs, and she could feel his erection nudging at the core of her body. Her breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, and she fought for control. His hand moved between their bodies, and he opened her with skillful fingers. The tips slid over her swollen clit, and she let out a little yelp. His hands moved to grip her shoulders and hold her down—was he expecting her to fight?

“Now,” he said and in one fluid move, he pushed inside her, filling her. At the same time, he lunged, his fangs piercing her throat. And she came.

She arched her back and screamed but was held in place by his firm grip on her shoulders, his mouth at her neck, his cock lodged deep inside her.

He started to move, withdrawing almost all the way before thrusting hard into her, and all the time she could feel the dragging pull of his fangs tugging at places low down in her body.

She was out of control. Her hips thrusting with his, her legs wrapped around his waist, and she lost all concept of time and place. The pleasure was building again, spiraling.

He raised his head, releasing her throat, and his eyes glowed crimson, his mouth stained with her blood. Holding her gaze, he thrust into her, his hips grinding against her sensitive flesh, and she came again.

Each time she came back to herself, he repeated the action, spilling her over the edge. Finally, almost with relief, she felt him tense above her as he found his own release.

Afterward, he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so she lay sprawled over his long, hard body, totally boneless. She might never move again.

“You okay?” he murmured.

“Oh yeah. Let’s do that again sometime.”

“Whenever you’re ready.” She could hear the grin in his voice, but she ignored it, too sated to be bothered to answer back.

Piers stroked her shoulders and back, drawing lazy circles on her skin, soothing her, and she drifted off into sleep.

…

“Tell me everything,” Roz said.

He rolled onto his front, rested his chin on one hand, and smiled. “Everything?”

“How you became a vampire? Why Andarta wants you so badly…?”

“Well, obviously because I’m irresistible.”

“Obviously,” she said dryly.

Actually, he was pretty irresistible, but she wasn’t going to agree with him; he was already big-headed enough. “Tell,” she urged.

After studying her for a minute longer, he shrugged his agreement. He pushed himself up and bunched the pillows behind him, then sat back and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against his side.

“A long time ago, in a faraway place…”

“Where and how long?”

“Actually not that far away. Northern France, and just over two thousand years.”

“Wow—you’re old. And French. Double wow.”

“I was a priest, a druid—”

“A priest?” She sounded incredulous. “You were a priest?”

“Yes, I was a priest, and the most powerful druid of the time. I worshipped the Goddess Andarta, and she answered my prayers and came to me in human form.”

“Ha. I’m betting Andarta was never human.”

“In ‘human form’. I never believed she was anything other than a goddess. You could say I worshipped her. And she came to care for me.”

“Aw—that must have been sweet.”

He grinned. “Sweet it was not. But she loved me, and I…”

“You?”

“I loved her, as much as I was capable of loving. Anyway, she loved me, and she hated the idea of me growing old and leaving her. Do you know anything of druid beliefs?”

“A little.”

“I believed that I would be reborn, and if I lived by the proper ways, I would be reborn stronger and more powerful, until my powers would rival the gods themselves. Andarta didn’t want me to die. She sought to give me eternal life.”

“How?”

He cast her an amused glance. “How do you think?”

“She wanted you to become a vampire? But how could she do that? I thought you had to be bitten by another vampire; or is that just myth?”

“No, it’s true. And that’s where Jack comes in. Jack was indebted to her, I’m not sure how or why. But he also loved her, still does…well did, probably right up to the moment I pulled his head off.”

“Aw, poor Jack.”

“When I refused her offer of eternal life—I had no wish to become a drinker of blood—she trapped me, and Jack changed me by force.”

“I guess you weren’t too happy about that.”

“I wasn’t. But I got my own back. I couldn’t destroy Andarta, but I made sure she was out of action for a long, long time.”

“And Jack?”

“Yes, I gave them a nice cozy space together.”

“And they’ve been there since. So I’m guessing she’s not too fond of you anymore.”

He gave her a look she couldn’t quite identify. “She wants me back.”

Shock hit her in the gut and her gaze flew to his face. “She what?”

“She sent Jack with a message, telling me there was a place by her side.”

“And were you tempted?” She gave him her best evil-eyed stare. “Think carefully what you say here.”

“Tempted? Hmm, what was the offer? Consort to a goddess, rule at her side for eternity. What do you think?”

She thought Andarta had better keep out of her way. “She’s not really a goddess, any more than I’m a witch.”

“But you are a witch—you just didn’t know what one was before. In truth—I feel nothing for Andarta now. Except maybe a little grateful. I’d be dead long ago if it wasn’t for her machinations. And all-in-all, I’ve enjoyed what I am.” He turned to her and appeared serious for once. “I was never a good person.”

“Not even when you were alive?”

“Maybe less so then. If you’ve read about druids you must know something of what we were like, what we did.”

“There is very little substantiated evidence for what they actually did—maybe you could write a book on the subject.”

“Perhaps. Anyway, we believed human life was sacred, so what better way to honor the gods than to take that life?”

“Ugh. You performed human sacrifices—like the wicker man?”

“Just like. They were usually criminals, people who had been sentenced to death, but I wasn’t too fussy.”

“Oh.”

“Do you think less of me for it?”

“Probably. But I’ve done things myself that I’ve known were wrong.”

“But you did them for survival.”

“That’s really no excuse. Since when is my survival more important than anyone else’s?”

“It is to me.”

Since her mother’s death, she’d felt as though there was no one who cared whether she lived or died. She was useful to Asmodai, but that was probably all she was to him. Now here was this beautiful man—well maybe not man, but definitely beautiful—and for some strange reason he cared for her. One day soon, she would ask him why. It wasn’t in her nature to just accept things without questioning, but right now she was going to bask in the glow.

Just for a little while.

Surely, she could allow herself that.

“But I haven’t performed a human sacrifice in two thousand years.”

“How about eating them?”

“Most survived; some even enjoyed the experience.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Look, I’ll never be a good person, but I’ve come to terms with what I am, and I have my own set of codes that I don’t cross.”

“It’s none of my business.”

“You’re lying in my bed, naked. I think that makes it your business.”

She peered under the sheet and grinned. “So I am.”

“So you are.”

His voice sounded different, and she glanced up at his face. His eyes were hot and hungry. Her skin suddenly felt too sensitive for the covering, and she peeled it off, wriggled down in the bed, and saw his lips curl in a slow smile that revealed one sharp, white fang.

At the sight, her muscles tensed, and that insistent pulse throbbed between her thighs. He came up over her, and his mouth drifted down over her body, kissing her breasts, then lower, until his cool breath ruffled the curls at the base of her belly.

He shifted beside her so he could kiss the inside of her thigh. “You know you have a vein”—he kissed her again— “just here.” He licked her skin, and the breath caught in her throat. Glancing up the length of her body, there was a question in his eyes.

She nodded and held herself still as his fangs punctured the flesh of her inner thigh. Heat flooded her, soaking her core, and she let her head fall back and gave herself up to the rhythmic tugging. One hand slid up her thigh, easing between the folds of her sex. Her whole body jerked in response as his finger pushed inside her. Then withdrew, and in again, so he was moving to the rhythmic tug of his mouth. Roz could feel the heat building inside her, then he stroked the pad of his thumb over her clit and she came in a slow wave of pleasure that rolled over her, sucking her under.

When she came back to herself, he was lapping at the small wound. He caught her gaze. “Thank you.”

She let out a breathy laugh. “It was my pleasure.”

Chapter Eighteen

Roz was dozing, snuggled up against his cool, hard body, when the shrill ring of the phone jolted her awake.

Piers picked it up and listened.

“Your old boyfriend’s here,” he said as he put the phone down.

“Asmodai?”

“Yeah. They’re all waiting for us.”

“Damn.” But they had to get up at some point, and sooner rather than later. Dawn was only a few hours away and presumably, Piers would need to sleep. And there were things to do, people to see.

“Do you have to sleep during the daytime?” she asked.

“No. When I was younger I had no choice; I had to sleep. Now, I can choose, but it’s better if I rest.”

She tried to imagine what it would be like to live in perpetual nighttime. “Do you miss the sunlight?”

“No. I was always a creature of the night, even when I lived.”

She had a lover. A vampire lover.

And she guessed she was in love. She was trying not to think of that aspect too much, in case she scared herself off. It was funny to think that she trusted herself less than she trusted Piers. But she knew what a fucked-up mess she was. And she’d lost too many people she cared about.

But Piers had lived for two thousand years; surely he was a safe bet for a while longer. He could take care of himself.

She glanced down at the small wound on her inner thigh. At least it had stopped bleeding. There was another at her throat. She’d look like a pincushion if they weren’t careful. How often did he have to feed? Would he feed from other people? She wasn’t sure she liked the idea.

She made a mental note to go talk to Tara at some point. She presumed vampires followed the same rules—sort of.

Her glance strayed to her upper arm, where the sigil still showed, like black ink against the pale skin of her arm.

“How well do you know Asmodai?” she asked as she searched the floor for her clothes. Somehow they had become scattered around the room.

Piers was still lying on the bed, amazingly sexy with the sheet just covering his thighs—like some
Playgirl
model. His streaky blond hair was loose about his shoulders. Now he sighed, running a hand through it. “Better than I’d like to,” he answered.

He pulled himself up and off the bed. Roz stopped what she was doing and watched—she couldn’t help herself—as he stalked naked across the floor and opened the wardrobe. He selected a pair of jeans and dragged them on, the soft denim clinging to the long lines of his legs. He rubbed a hand across his bare chest as he considered the contents, then took a blue shirt off the hanger. He pulled it on but left it hanging open. It was the exact same color as his eyes. Had he worn it on purpose because he knew she’d be mesmerized? Maybe the casual clothes were an attempt to appear more approachable, less scary.