The Witching Hour (The Grim Reaper Saga (Urban Fantasy Romance)) (20 page)

***

Rolling waves and salty air filled the night. There was nobody else on Baker’s Beach at this time of day and that’s how she liked it.

The light of the silver moon danced across the obsidian shore, silhouettes of jagged rock tore through the waters. Dangerous swimming area, but a nice sunbathing spot.

The summers were a mess, especially since this strip of sand also doubled as a nude beach. Gawkers were pretty much everywhere during the day, but there was a certain privacy and eroticism to nighttime forays that couldn’t be matched.

She hadn’t brought him here to see him in the nude--circumspectly she glanced at the barely visible bulge in his jeans--
although...

“This is nice,” he inhaled, and in his words she heard a sincere appreciation. For the first time since being around the vamp, she sensed him at peace, fully at peace.

She smiled. Maybe he was a nature guy. Sometimes too much city could drive people batty. There were definitely advantages to not being a tourist, knowing the local dives intimately for one.

He took several deep breaths of the salt tinged air and then turned to look at her. Deep blue eyes glittered in the moonlight. “Thank you, Eve. You can’t know how much I needed this.”

Biting her bottom lip, she glanced away, her heart thumping so loud in her chest she was sure he could hear it.

C’mon Eve, remember he’s a vamp. Don’t want him getting too excited at hearing the rush of hot blood through your veins.

That calmed her immediately. A few nibbles on the neck for fun, sure, but to be fed on... not so much.

The surf was pounding the beach, its navy blue waves called to her, making her itchy to feel its coolness lap against her heated body.

She gripped his forearm, stopping him in his tracks. He glanced down at her with a frown.

“Hold on.” She lifted her leg, hopping around to keep her balance, and slid off first one strappy sandal and then the other. “I’ve got to go barefoot here. I love digging my toes in the sand.”

He stepped closer to her, covering her hand with his own. “Aren’t you afraid of stepping on broken glass, or even needles? Beaches aren’t that safe anymore.”

His worry for her was nearly her undoing. As it was her heart was in serious overdrive. She’d forgotten what the first blooming of a crush had felt like. And yeah, she was thirty, but she was more than willing to admit she was seriously crushing on this thoughtful, sexy as sin, vampire.

Memories of her and Michael’s first few dates came back to her and with it memories of all the excitement, passion, dread, fear, joy, near-to-tears-exhilaration of getting to know someone and knowing you were falling fast. He could be Mr. Right or even Mr. Right now. Whatever he was, she was feeling it all over again.

She was both terrified and ready to jump for joy. To cover her confusion she lifted her ruby necklace and shook it a little.

“This stone channels my power. With it, I can whisper any command and have it come to be. Those within my capabilities at any rate.”

He looked impressed and gave her a soft smile. “I assume you can protect your feet then?”

“I don’t think that’s out of my range, no.”

There went that stupid grin again, stealing across her face. Could she control anything anymore? Nothing for it, she was a walking free for all.

Closing her eyes, she imagined her feet to be as tough as steel and yet at the same time as sensitive as a butterfly’s wing.

“Make it so,” she murmured and then opened her eyes to see a hazy reddish fog envelop her feet before slowly fading away. The enchantment was wrought. Now no harm would come to her tender flesh and she’d still be able to feel all the texture of sand and water. Exactly what she wanted.

She dug her toes into the sand, relishing its cool, grainy feel and inhaled happily. “Why don’t you take off your shoes and join me, Vamp?”

Cian cocked his head and grimaced. “No. I don’t think--”

Eve stood on tiptoe, placing her finger over his sinfully, yummy lips. “Then don’t think and just do it. Live a little. Don’t you know this is how you make memories?”

He trapped her finger between his lips. His mouth was a warm haven and when he flicked her with the tip of his tongue, she thought she might die. Or swoon. But probably die, because swooning was just so pathetically cliché.

She swallowed hard. With one final kiss to her finger he let it go. Thank goddess she hadn’t eaten anything earlier, her stomach might have revolted.

“You know what. You’re right. I should live a little.” And so saying, he took off his shoes. Then he grabbed her hand, threaded their fingers together, and resumed walking. The leather of his glove was as soft as baby’s skin and pulsed with warmth, it seeped straight into her palm. It was unusual. Unlike the cold feel of leather she was used to.

“This leather...” she said, lifting their linked hands and staring at the black glove, noticing for the first time the runes etched into the leather. “It’s so soft. Different than normal cow hide.” She traced a finger over one design.

Okay, so she was totally trying to get him to fess up about the glove. At first he hadn’t worn one, so she knew his hand wasn’t burnt, or deformed, but he had one on all the time now. Since the moment Indigo had attacked. Not that she didn’t like it, it sorta hammered home the fact that he’d lived in era’s she’d have given her right kidney and maybe even her left, to see. It was sorta regency meets goth and she dug it. But she was still curious.

He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, placing a very gentle kiss at the crook between thumb and fingers.

She shivered, her heart taking a nosedive in her chest. Needing to bank the fire scorching between her thighs she walked towards the water’s edge, just close enough for the gentle waves to slip over her feet.

The water was frigid, just what she needed to quench the lust hammering through her veins.

They walked in silence. But there was no awkward tension. She peeked at him from the corner of her eye.

He was calmly staring ahead.

This felt right.

The water.

The scenery.

Him.

Him most of all.

“So tell me, Cian, how long have you lived in San Francisco?”

An innocent question, but still his heart gave a jolt. It was questions like this that could lead to other more in depth questions and that couldn’t happen. Especially not now.

“A while.”

“Mmm.” She inhaled and looked to the sky, a dreamy smile on her face. “I’ve been here for twelve years. Came for college, liked it so much, I decided to stay. You know how it goes.”

He nodded.

“There’s just no place like it. To be able to live free and be who you are without fear of reprisal. It’s nice. Home.”

Her skin was like silk. The touch of her arm against his, her fingers laced together with his, so soft and yielding, feminine. He wished he could feel the touch of her hand, without the glove interfering. A burning desire to do the forbidden and slip the glove off, touch her, filled him to the point of bursting. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t put her in danger. Ever.

This couldn’t be happening. Shouldn’t be. But reality was that it had. With one look he’d been entranced and with one smile she’d claimed his heart forever. So fast and so hard there’d be no going back.

So what now? Lose his heart and his mind when she died? He couldn’t accept that. Regardless that Lise or Dagda had given him no shred of hope, there still had to be a way. There had to be, because to believe otherwise didn’t bear thought.

“Cian...” She bumped him with her hip hard enough that he tripped. Eve laughed. Her melodic sultry sound slithered down his spine, coiling tighter around his heart.

“What?” His lips twitched.

“You, Mr. Man, were ignoring me. I asked where you lived. I’ve shown you mine, now you gotta show me yours.”

He cocked his brow. “Are we still talking about houses?”

She laughed. “You’re so dirty. House. For now.”

Her sultry look gave him visions of ripping the shirt from her body and tasting the breasts she’d teased him with the night before. He grinned.

Lise could either read the future, or instinctively knew the way Eve’s mind worked. He was pretty sure it was a little of both.

Her golden eyes widened and she waved a hand through the air. “Ohmygod, I’m not trying to invite myself over if that’s what you think. Well, I guess that’s what it might have sounded like, huh? What I meant was...”

It was mean of him to let her ramble on, but it was qualities like that that endeared her to him. Being and living amongst the fae’s was always a constant battle of wills, deception and one-upmanship. Her natural way of being was so refreshing that he almost felt at times lost and unsure. This wasn’t normal for him; but then all she’d have to do was smile at him and he felt anchored once more.

She made him feel... alive.

Scarlet had settled deep into her cheeks when he finally decided to put her out of her misery. He grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Her lashes fluttered shut and she took a deep, cleansing breath. The anxiety eased out of her, replaced by calm relief.

Heat pooled between his legs, made him pain, yearn for the forbidden. He’d never wanted something so badly in his entire life.

Pulling her into his arms, he laid his head atop hers. She fit perfectly, her tiny hands clutching at his shirt. He knew the instant she felt him, because the gentle flutter flowing from her to him turned instantly to a hot, heavy pulse of sexual desire, so strong it nearly brought him to his knees.

He clamped his jaw together. At the very least he could control this. If not his desire, then his actions.

“Eve, its okay.” He ran his hands up and down her back in a soothing gesture, and he didn’t know what made him do it, but he uttered the damning words. “I live in a flat in Presidio Heights.”

“Wow,” she said in breathless wonder. “I always heard the ancients were loaded. You’d have to be to live there. Million dollar homes. So how old are you really, Cian? Not that I’m prying or anything.”

She raised a black brow.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Scrunching her nose, she punched him lightly on the arm and sauntered off, hands crossed behind her back, skirt billowing softly around her ankles. “What can I say, I’m like a hound dog with a scent. I’m gonna get you to tell me how old you are someday.”

He caught up, grabbing her hand and pulling her to his side. She laughed, wiggled out of his grip, and ran off, her black hair whipped through the breeze like a banner.

Excitement stirred his veins and he took chase.

Eve zipped around him, graceful as a gazelle, her strong legs eating up the distance along the shoreline. He could catch her, but he enjoyed the chase. The feel of his lungs expanding for breath, muscles in his legs coiling and bunching, pushing off from the sand.

Panting, she finally dropped--mere inches in front of him--and stuck out her foot.

He tripped over her, landing with a soft thud on the beach. But he wasn’t even given enough time to right himself when he felt a slight body plop on top of his. Her unique scent filled the space between them.

“Eve,” he growled and rolled over, clamping his fingers into her sides. She was glowing with a rush of blood, her pale skin shone luminous. The ruby in the center of her necklace gleamed with flares of volcanic red, swirling with undulating waves of color, rolling into and onto each other.

Their eyes locked and time stood still.

He was aware of only her. The feel of her tiny body on his. Her legs straddling his waist and the steady rise and fall of her chest.

She licked her lips and her anticipation crawled through his skin.

“So bonny.” He lifted his hand to trail a finger down her cheek. The heat off her body seeped through the leather. The gloves were an extension of him. The essence of what he was created the material, it was almost like touching flesh to flesh. Almost. For now, it was enough.

Black lashes, like moth’s wings, fluttered shut.

All the reasons why he shouldn’t touch, shouldn’t taste her no longer seemed to matter. She was here with him, offering herself in a way no other ever had, for that reason alone Cian couldn’t resist.

Placing his hands on her shoulder, he pulled her slightly forward. Her mouth parted in a silent whisper.

He closed his eyes, reaching out with all his senses, wanting to savor this moment, to remember it ten or even a hundred years from now with the same clarity.

When he exhaled, she inhaled. They were one breath, one heartbeat, everything in time and in tune with the other.

She trembled and his heart clenched. Then he closed the final bit of space between them and claimed her lips for his own.

Eve moaned into him. Her fingers curling into his shirt, her soft hair falling around them, shielding them like a curtain.

He tasted, his tongue delved deep, wrapping hers around his. Warmth spread through his body and centered in his chest. She tasted of apples. Sweet and irresistible.

Cian deepened the kiss, his hands roaming along her now prone backside, kneading, cupping, and committing to memory.