Forsaking (Vampire Assassin League Book 26) (8 page)

His mate.

The one.

And only.

His head hit the ceiling again. It jolted his eyes open. It took some time to gain awareness. Her gaze waited for him. Aqua cool. Deep. Already beloved.

“You said something...about a bed?”

They were hovering above the floor, almost touching the ceiling. Slowly rotating in a small circle. She watched the lantern as it came into view. Disappeared again, leaving her looking at where dark wood walls met plastered ceiling. This side of the room was dim but as they rotated the room grew lighter. The lantern came into view again. This was a physical impossibility.

Still, it was happening.

Wow
.

She wasn’t in any danger. Falling didn’t even occur to her. He had her wrapped in his arms while she’d locked her limbs about him. Her breasts pressed to his chest. Their loins connected. It was a strange view from up here. The lantern sent golden light to illuminate and define. The Victorian settee. The top of the piano. The gun racks. Everything was infused with glow. She probably radiated it.

That was before she factored in the sparkling sensation. Her body was a blend of fizz and warmth. As if she’d been dunked in a bathtub of champagne, then wrapped in down. She was still experiencing every bubbly burst. Followed almost immediately by bliss. Every inch of skin got a dose. She’d never felt such satiation.

Bram regarded her, his eyes so dark she couldn’t tell pupil size. Solid black. Reflective. Like polished onyx stones. He watched her without expression for some time. She didn’t know how long. She didn’t truly care. Getting Bramwell Stark’s full attention superseded just about everything. Time was just one casualty.

He blinked a couple of times, sending lash shadow along both cheeks. The man was such eye candy. The looks he could give were just added sweetening.

“Huh?”

The word came with a corresponding twinge from where he was still buried. He hadn’t looked quite aware.

“You said you have a bed. A big one.”

His expression changed. His eyebrows lowered. His cheeks narrowed. His lips pursed. That sent more effervescence through her veins. She laughed. But the instant jerk of tenderness from their loins stopped that reaction in its tracks. She cleared her throat.

“Yes?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

He grinned, displaying all kinds of laugh lines about his eyes. She’d been wrong. His grin even trumped the smoldering look.

“And we can get there...fairly quickly?”

Something twinged within her. He shuddered. His reply was gruff.

“Hold on.”

“Oh. Like that’s going to be a problem.”

She hugged tighter to him. He shuddered. Then blushed. And damn, but she loved that reaction. Laughter spilled out. It got caught on a gasp as he went horizontal and started zooming. Through the casket room. Around pillars. Down a really long span of blackness with flashes of something that looked metallic. There might have been stairs. She wasn’t paying enough attention. Her hair was loose, making it difficult to see. For that matter, so was his. They had the same shade of hair. Strands of his licked at her cheeks. Neck. The ends of her hair slid along her bare back.

And backside.

“Where are we?”

“Mining tunnel. From the forties.”

“Nineteen forty?”

“Yeah. Big operation. Lots of secret military stuff happening then.”

“Like Area 51? You have got to be kidding. You have a secret hideaway attached to a secret base? I’m beginning to think I’m dreaming, you know.”

“Watch your head.”

He swooped downward, dropping several feet. She should have been worried more over her innards. Her belly dropped. That was slightly sickening. She got glimpses of rooms. Paintings. Lots of Victorian era furnishings. Bric-a-brac. Museum quality. Looked like antique-store-owner heaven.

“What is this place?”

“My home. I mean, one of them.”

“What was back there, then? Vestibule?”

“Storage.”

“You have your coffin in storage?”

“I was moving.”

“You were?”

“Things were getting crowded. I detest crowds. And attention.”

“Well. I wouldn’t step into any crowds then. You are bound to garner a lot of attention, cowboy.”

He grunted. A moment later he stopped. Took them vertical again and waited.

“We’re here.”

Here was the word for a darkened room. She couldn’t tell the size. It felt spacious. Bedroom-type furnishings could just be seen. An armoire. A really huge wardrobe. Bureau. The major piece was a bed. Four-posted. With a span of filmy material draped over it.

“Wow. And wow. And top it off with another wow. This is awesome, Bramwell.”

“You like it?”

“Like is kind-a lame. I love it.”

He held her tightly with one arm, shoved canopy and bedding aside with the other, and a moment later down-filled heaven met her bare back and thighs.

“Oh, Bram. I’m thinking you should’ve brought me here a little sooner.”

“I tried.”

“I’m joking, cowboy. This is nice. Really nice. If this is being a vampire, it ain’t half bad. You can even fly. For reals.”

“Something to that effect.”

“And look. You’re not even breathing hard.”

“Well...yeah. I wouldn’t even be breathing if it weren’t for you, sweetheart.”

He grinned again. Her heart fluttered. His eyes widened and the amusement on his face died. As if he’d felt the heart thing.

“Darn. This sucks.”

“Sucks? Where?”

“I was kind-a hoping for another mind-blowing lovemaking session before we have this talk.”

“Mind...blowing?”

“Awesome. Unbelievable. Impossible to describe. There are no words. My world got turned on its end and still hasn’t re-righted. You know. Mind-blowing.”

She gave a heavy sigh. He did one, too. Exactly like hers. He was actually matching every breath. Marielle narrowed her eyes.

“Are you mocking me?”

“Uh. No. Why?”

“You’re breathing along with me.”

He gave another grin. Her heart stuttered again. Damn thing. His expression did the exact same maneuver as before. He sobered again. Then he lowered his chin, speared her with a gaze, and sent all kinds of heat into the six inches between them.

“I am a vampire, Marielle.”

“Uh...yeah. I kind-a got that part.”

“And you are my mate.”

“Mate. That sounds...like a long-term relationship word.”

“Vampires are not nice creatures. We’re dead. Just existing. We kill without compunction. Drain blood without compassion. Exist without empathy. There is no emotion. Feeling. Sensation. Nothing.”

“I heard that part, too. What of it?”

“I’ve been told I need to get out more. I’m very bad at words. It must be true. What I described to you is exactly what I used to be. And then everything changed. Because of you. My mate.”

“And there goes that mate word again.”

“Mating is rare. Absolutely perfect. I started breathing. Every breath matches yours. The same thing happened to my heart. Everything on my body has been reawakened. Uh...everywhere.”

He groaned. He was hardening. Marielle’s eyes widened. Her breath snagged. His matched.

“You see? I can’t even control this.”

“Oh. Bramwell. Wow.”

She started suctioning him in and then releasing him in a slow, sliding motion. What was she doing? Sex fogged up everything. It had gotten her into this. She needed a clear head. Open mind. Negotiation skills. She swallowed.

Hard.

“Maybe you’d better tell me a bit more about the mate stuff. Okay? I mean...I’m not totally against the idea.”

He snorted. Rolled. Pushed up. Put incredibly defined man on display. Between her legs. Her body shuddered. His arms and pecs tightened as he exhibited a like response. The bed beneath them trembled.

“What do you need to know, darlin’?”

“Do I have to become one, too?”

“A vampire?”

“Yes.”

“Of course.”

“Of course?”

Her voice rose. It didn’t match how her body surged toward him. Her legs tightened to bring him closer, and then eased so he could make his next stroke. Her hands started roaming all over extremely sculpted arms and shoulders.

“It’s eternal life, sweetheart.”

“You didn’t describe it that way. Sounds more like eternal death.”

“Oh. It won’t be. Not for you.”

“Why not?”

“You’re mated already.”

“Oh...Bramwell! That feels so good. Unbelievable. This is terrible.”

“Terrible?”

“I’m trying to figure out...this vampirism thing. I need. I need—oh. Yes. Right there.”

“You’ll never get sick, darlin’. Never injured.”

“Can it cure...illness? Disease?”

“Yep.”

“Even Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever?”

“Everything.”

“Wow. That’s a plus. Add that to your body. And what you can do with it. Oh, Bramwell. Baby. You make it sound so...
hmm
.”

He was moving long and slow. Keeping a rhythm only he heard at first. The bed started creaking, while the netting swayed.

“Oh, Bramwell...hmm. This is so wrong.”

“Is it?”

He’d lifted onto his knees, gaining a better position, sending visual impact to enhance the physical portion of this. Every stroke sent multiple stimuli. Her body had no trouble intercepting it. And then reacting.

“Oh, Bram. Oh, babe. Oh. This is...no. Wait. I need to explain. I’ve been called...cold-hearted. A woman has to be nowadays.”

“Really?”

Oh. He had such a perfect body. Such amazing moves. Marielle almost sighed in appreciation before catching such stupidity. Estrogen was not going to get the air cleared. It was just mucking things up.

“Men like to...control. Command. Dominate.”

“We do, do we?”

His hands tightened around her waist. Anchoring her to him. Using his handholds to bring each thrust in harder. Deeper. Driving her crazy. Making her say things she’d normally keep to herself.

“Yeah...and I’m not entering any relationship...without an exit strategy. It’s a self-preservation thing.”

“Exit strategy?”

He stopped every movement. His jaw even set. That put sharp canines on display. Her loins were afire with all kinds of stimulation, vibrating with need, and he hovered in place, giving her an enigmatic, dark look.
Holy shit
. The man was swoon-inducing. She had to breathe shallowly and quickly to prevent it. That body? In this position? Highlighted by fangs? Heat wasn’t the only thing between them. It was brighter, as well.

“You got a problem with that?” she whispered.

He trembled. And then he smiled. And her heart took a nosedive.

“Nope,” he finally answered. He punctuated it with a shove against her pelvis, melding them. “You want to dominate me, sweetheart?”

His eyes weren’t remotely opaque. They were dark, mysterious, and incredibly soulful. Deep. She’d never felt so loved. Desired. Or safe.

With a vampire?

Swooning actually sounded like a viable option to the flush of emotion that flooded her. Her eyes filled with tears. She had to blink rapidly to stop them. Her skin rippled with goose bumps. Her breath quavered. “Nothing is forever. Okay? I watched my mom get her heart broken more than once. I learned. I’m not going to be the one pining while you’re out enjoying yourself.”

“Enjoying myself?”

“With other women.”

Bram chuckled. She gasped and latched tighter to him.

“Marielle. Sweetheart. It must be true. I am really poor with words. You are my mate, love. I am yours. This isn’t possible with anyone else. Ever.”

“You’re all mine?”

“Yep.”

“What if it doesn’t work out?”

“I think I’m really likin’ the domination idea, darlin’,” he replied.

“I’m trying to be serious...here, Bramwell Stark.”

“Fair enough. You want serious?” His words were followed by several deep thrusts. The sway of the bed accompanied. He stopped. Pinned her with a gaze. And said three words that made her heart swell. “I love you.”

She threw both arms about his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Then all she had to do was hold on.

His phones were set to the opening bars of William Tell’s Overture. Akron had laughed when he’d first heard it. He’d mentioned something about the appropriateness of Bramwell’s selection. Bram hadn’t paid too much attention at the time. Right now, the sound of violins made a spectacular entrance into the bedroom. The call startled Marielle from her position on his shoulder. Her sudden move initiated the lighting system. The lantern above them sparked to life, instantly shedding a golden glow through the room. He didn’t react. He wasn’t resting. He had too much to consider.

He had his mate!

It was as impossible as it was unbelievable. And it was a puzzle. Why him? And why now? He still strove toward atonement. Redemption. He was ill-prepared. Unworthy. Undeserving. That hadn’t changed anything. His mate was still here. Right beside him! Their skin touching...almost everywhere.

His opinion hadn’t altered, either. Not in the slightest. She was beautiful. Intelligent. Sassy.
Whoa
. He truly was one lucky son-of-a-bitch.

Marielle had slept all day, her body curled against his. Now she sat, rubbed a hand across her eyes, and looked down at him. Long, straight, dark hair fell about her, highlighting all kinds of things. Her small perfect breasts. A tiny waist. Ample hips. Her hair spilled like a waterfall to the sheets. Her breasts peeked through. And her belly button. The top of her thighs. He knew better than to glance down, but didn’t exercise enough control. One look and his body gave him trouble.

He lurched. The bed followed. She smiled, tucked hair behind her ear, and his heart warmed further. His eyes stung as if he’d been in a ten-day dust storm. Behind a huge herd. Bram pulled in a shaky breath. Blinked rapidly. He couldn’t even return her smile.

Another crescendo of orchestration filtered through the chamber, and then the quick staccato of violins started up again.

“Uh. I have to answer that,” he told her.

“You have the ‘Lone Ranger’ as a ringtone? Oh. That’s just...classic.”

She giggled. He shoved beneath netting, snagged a pack of slim cell phones, and was back before she’d finished. He settled onto his ass before her. Crossed his legs. Exactly like her. He might have startled her with the speed of his move. She was no longer laughing. And her eyes were huge. He slid a phone out and opened it with a thumb. Put it to his ear. Watched Marielle’s lips and throat as he answered. He didn’t dare gaze into her eyes. It was too addictive. He might sound like an idiot.

“Uh. Hello?”

“Good evening, Bramwell.”

It was Akron. Bram frowned slightly. He could have sworn the instructions were for him to call in. Not vice-versa.

“Sir?”

“How it the mating progressing? Things going...in a positive direction?”

“Uh. Yeah. Wait. How did you know?”

“Excellent extra-sensory skills. And a very adept internet liaison. Lizbeth? Join the call, please.”

Bram heard a beep as another line connected. Marielle tipped her head to one side. Pursed her lips. Scrambled most of his wits. He didn’t know the rest of her expression. He didn’t dare look.

“I do apologize for the interruption, Bramwell, but things have changed on our end. Lizbeth? You on?”

“Yes, Sir.” A female voice replied.

“Who is it?”

Marielle asked it and snagged his attention. She lifted a long lock of hair and studied the ends as if looking for something. His ears starting experiencing a lot of buzzing. He shook his head to clear it.

“What?” Bram asked.

“Who is calling?” she repeated.

“Akron.”

“And who is Akron?”

“My boss.”

Akron spoke in Bram’s ear. “I am afraid I can’t give you more time for your courtship, Bramwell. You have a window of opportunity that is rapidly closing and I have an antsy client who has called our line three times. He has excellent internet skills, too. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to find our new numbers so rapidly. Needless to say, he is flirting with a regrettable accident. I won’t even charge anyone.”

“You have a boss? Does that mean you work? Vampires have...jobs?”

Marielle laughed. Her breasts bobbed with it. Bram tightened his butt and thigh and ab muscles. The buzzing intensified. He groaned. Akron spoke again.

“I understand your disappointment, but it isn’t a difficult hit. You should be able to handle it in a matter of minutes and then return to...whatever it is you’re doing. Lizbeth is sending the file to your computer. Any trouble receiving?”

He wasn’t near his laptop. He kept that in his office. He wasn’t thinking of moving there, either. “Can’t you just tell me?”

“Very well, but you really should read the file. Lizbeth?”

The female voice spoke up again. “Your assignment is a Missus...Stimson. Yes. Here it is. Susan.”

“Susan Stimson,” he repeated. “Got it. Anything else?”

“What about her?” Marielle asked.

His attention got snagged by Marielle’s movement more than her question. She shoved one side of her hair over her shoulder, putting all kinds of emphasis on her perfect torso. He was finding that mating could be problematic at times. This was one of them. It took a few seconds for her question to penetrate.

“What?”

“You mentioned Susan Stimson. What about her?” Marielle asked.

“Oh. She’s the hit.”

“She’s the
what
?”

Her voice was sharp. High-pitched. It should have warned him.

“I’m an assassin. A member of the Vampire Assassin League. We kill for profit. She is my assigned hit.”

“You’re a
what
?”

This time her question was close to a scream.

“Assassin,” Bram replied. He turned back to the phone. “Uh. Akron? Sir? I may have a complication on this end.”

“This call is close to the time limit anyway. We’ll call you right back.”

The line went dead. Bram pitched it to the bottom of the mattress somewhere. Snagged another cell from the pack. Slid the front open. Hovered his thumb over the connect button. Marielle was staring at him openmouthed. Wide-eyed. A dark flush stained her pristine skin. He watched it consume her shoulders, throat. Lower jaw. She had a very set look to her entire frame, too. Bram didn’t know what to say. Do. Act.

“Did I hear right? You
kill
people?”

He waited a moment. Moved his glance upward. His heart jerked painfully as their gazes connected. And then he nodded.

“And you didn’t think that was important enough for your ‘I am a vampire’ spiel?”

“I was going to tell you.”

“Oh, really? When exactly? After another lovemaking session? Where you break down my resistance some more?”

He shook his head.

“Bramwell!”

Oh.
Hell.
Her voice was stained with emotion. He was afraid she might cry. His heart felt like a cannonball was shoved against it and pressing harder with each continuing beat.

“You can’t do it. You can’t. Not Susan.”

“You know this person?” he asked.

“She’s a little shit that drives people crazy. A kid. She’s just a kid! Barely fifteen. Cute. Into gothic stuff. Claiming to be bi-sexual. Who would want to harm her?”

The William Tell Overture started up again. Bram had the call connected on the second note. He put it to his ear without taking any attention from Marielle. He’d been right. She was starting to cry. Her eyes filled with moisture. He’d never seen anything as heartrending as her unblinking gaze.

“Sir?” he said into the phone.

“You mentioned complication, Bramwell. Would you clarify, please?”

“Who paid for the hit, Sir?”

“Lizbeth?”

The answer was from the feminine voice. Clear and loud enough Marielle could hear it.

“Mister Jedediah Stimson.”

“Her
father
? Oh no. No. No!”

Marielle shrieked it. And then she started hyperventilating. Her action dragged Bram’s breathing along. That was unpleasant. He was getting light-headed. Dizzy.

“Bramwell? Are you still there?” Akron asked.

“Uh. Yeah.”

“You can’t do it, Bram! You can’t!”

Marielle launched at him. Bram caught her and hugged her to him with one arm while she burst into tears. His neck got wet. His chest. He could see a tear wending its way down his abs.

“Did you read the file, Bramwell?”

“Not yet, Sir.”

“You may wish to. You might find it...illuminating.”

“I’m not taking the assignment, Sir.”

“Oh, you’re not?”

“I won’t kill another kid,” Bram told him.

“Another?”

“You heard me.”

“This is interesting. I believe I’ll need you to elaborate. When, exactly, did you kill a kid?”

“August twenty-seventh. 1879. Main Street. Dobbin Creek.”

“You just up and killed a kid that day? Why? What made that particular day so special?”

Bram was looking inward. He was seeing everything. Just like he had for decades. In perfect recollection. Every time he shut his eyes. “The bank got hit. There were three of them. Wearing kerchiefs over their faces.”

“You stopped a bank hold-up?”

“Yeah.”

“You were the sheriff, Bramwell. It was your duty to arrest outlaws. Shoot down bandits. Punish ne’er-do-wells. Was there a shoot-out?”

“Yeah.”

“You obviously won. That would mean you shot the three outlaws. Correct?”

“Two outlaws. One kid.”

“How old was this kid?”

“Don’t know. Fourteen. Fifteen.”

“That was not a kid in your day, Bramwell.”

“When a baby-faced boy dies in your arms calling for his mama, trust me, Sir. It’s a kid.”

“I see. This explains quite a bit, actually. I didn’t know.”

“Nobody knows. Nobody still alive, that is.”

Tears were dripping down his face now. They mixed with hers when they hit his belly. He lowered the phone and ran the back of his hand along his eyes. Choked back a sob. Sniffed. Took a deep breath.

“Well. This is enlightening. It is also wasting time. And has nothing to do with your assignment.”

Akron’s businesslike tone had a sobering effect on every emotion. It even dried sobs. Bram wasn’t the only one reacting. Marielle stiffened against him. She also sniffed.

“What did you just say?” Bram finally replied.

“I said you have an assignment. Time is wasting. Get it taken care of.”

“I can’t do it, Sir.”

“Can’t or won’t.”

“Both.”

“You realize what you’re saying?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You also understand the consequences?”

Bram gulped before replying. The motion hurt his throat. “Yes, Sir.”

“Meet me in the Dobb Lake casino penthouse. Inferno Suite. I expect you in ten minutes. Don’t be late. I do not wish to fetch you. And bring Miss O’Donnall with you.”