Running in the Dark (18 page)
“Actually I was going to ask you not to do that to me.” He pushed me back to arm’s length. “It would be embarrassing.”
“Fine, but no more trying to influence me. It makes my brain temporarily mushy.”
He feigned a sympathetic look, but the amusement in his eyes mocked me. “Temporarily. Of course.”
I should have been offended by his condescension. Instead I cupped his jaw and ran my thumb just below his lower lip. “You’re back.”
“Did I go somewhere?” he asked lightly, but I thought he understood. He’d submerged in his duties days after we arrived, and when his people were around, he wasn’t himself. It wasn’t only the clothes. He was formal and closed off, which the position required and which was probably necessary, considering that his decisions affected people. His treating me differently, though, that was a pill I couldn’t quite swallow. I wanted to be with him, but when his humor dried up and he treated me like a stranger, then it was hard to see anything besides his vampire nature.
“No,” I said finally. “But I like recognizing
you
when I see you.”
“I haven’t changed.” He covered my hand with his, twined his fingers through mine. “I wish some of these things hadn’t happened, but everything you’ve seen me do, I’ve done by choice. And I’ve had good reasons.”
“So you don’t just blow your fuse and run off to kill other vampires?” I handed him the conditioner. He frowned at it. “I don’t mean with that.”
“Is that what you think?” He sounded surprised.
“These last few nights have been bloody, and you haven’t exactly seemed like yourself. Not around me, at least.” I turned around while he worked the rinse in. He took a long time for how short my hair was.
When he spoke again, his voice was low. “I wasn’t trying to influence you. I only wanted you to know how much I needed you to stay safe.”
“I knew.”
“And I do not kill because I enjoy it or because it doesn’t matter to me whether the other person continues to exist or not. That isn’t the norm in this world, and you’re very much inside this world now. You’ve been dealing with my kind for years, but you’ve never learned to fear them properly.”
“You make a really ominous shower buddy.” I leaned back against him, relieved when he automatically wrapped his arms around me. For all that had happened, he was as gentle and responsive as ever. Something warm and light expanded inside of me. “I propose a new rule.”
“You don’t like rules,” he insisted.
“No, I
love
rules. Just not when I don’t know what’s going on. It’s a simple one. Say yes.”
He laughed lightly. “I’m…not falling for that.”
“And I’m not the con artist here.”
He snorted. I grinned, starting to believe we might be okay, that we might be compatible despite gaping differences, and really liking that idea.
“Safety first,” I said. “No more putting your well-being on the line to save me from myself. No more secrets if keeping them can hurt the other person. Deal?”
“Safety first? That’s it?”
“I thought it would be best, with you, to start with basics.”
He nipped my shoulder. “Deal.” He held a hand up, awkward since his arms were still around me, and we shook. “I’m glad that’s settled, because I didn’t join you in here so that I could negotiate.”
“Because you get enough of that at the day job? Do you hate it as much as Vorster seemed to think?”
“Believe it or not, I like security. I didn’t appreciate it before, and lost everything. I enjoy having the means to keep the people I care about safe. This existence—” he kissed my temple, “—being with you, I treasure it more than anything he could have offered.”
He waited, his hands motionless, for me to respond. I wanted to thank him and apologize and tell him what he did to me all at once. But the words wouldn’t form in my mouth. They were so final, and what we had—what I thought I was beginning to feel—was too tentative. Saying something meant I was committing to a future, and I wasn’t doing a stellar job of handling the present.
I took a deep breath, choked on a bead of water, and then started really coughing.
When I recovered, the moment had passed. I turned my head, expecting to see disappointment or anger or, worse, regret. Instead, his slick hands moved around my ribs and upward.
That I could handle. I closed my eyes as he slid against me.
“Are you hungry?” he murmured in my ear.
“Famished.”
“Tired?”
“Exhausted,” I gasped, my legs weakening as his hands roamed.
“I should feed you and put you to bed.” His voice grew thick. I turned in his arms, pressing against him until we bumped into the wall.
“Later.”
He picked me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist, slipping and sliding as he carried me to the bed. I reached for him as he laid me down.
“Are you sure you’re well enough?” He leaned over me, dripping, his eyes bright.
“So long as there’s no grappling—” my eyes moved down his body and I raised an eyebrow, “—or operating heavy equipment, I’ll be fine.”
“We should probably wait, then.”
I sat up, pushing him until he dropped onto the bed. “You say we need to wait, or tell me ‘later,’ and nobody here will be fine. I had a hard night, or three. I’ve earned this.”
I followed him as he put his back to the headboard, then straddled his thighs and kissed him. A chime sounded and I froze.
“Is that some kind of incoming sex alarm?” I whispered.
“Yes.” He laughed at my expression. “It’s the doorbell, Syd. From the other house.”
“Maybe it’s news about Soraya.”
He tossed me off. I bounced, then rolled up in the covers while he yanked a thick blue robe out of the closet. He closed the door behind him. I stretched out beneath the soft sheets, parts of me insistently requesting attention. Yeah, this I could handle. And someday, when I spontaneously matured, we would talk. Malcolm returned a couple minutes later, closing the door behind him.
“Is she awake?”
“It wasn’t about her.” He sat, extracted me from the covers and set me on his lap. His face was blank.
“What?” I breathed.
“Bronson will be here tomorrow. He’s staying for the rest of the winter.”
“About damn time.”
“He’ll declare that he has taken down a foreign insurgent distributing a deadly substance to his people.”
It took me a moment to realize what he was saying. “He didn’t have anything to do with that!” Bronson didn’t figure out the Goya connection, and he didn’t get his ass kicked taking care of it. Malcolm shrugged, jostling me.
“It’s his prerogative. Anything accomplished in his name is his to claim, and it’s an excellent opportunity to shoot down those who oppose his rule. Since he’s keeping the streets safe for honest, loyal vampires.” He only sounded mildly sarcastic. I may have growled. Malcolm brushed a rogue lock of hair back from my forehead and ran his fingers over my cheek. “He also found Richard Abel. On the West Coast. As soon as I’ve briefed him on what’s gone on here, we leave. Unless you’d like to stay?”
Richard Abel. My mind screeched to a halt, flashing images of a sneering face, blond hair, a woman hanging limp from his hand. The vampire’s blood on my hands when I surprised him with a concealed knife. It wasn’t much of an injury, but he’d taken it personally. Richard Abel wanted me dead.
I pushed Malcolm back and tore at the belt of his robe.
“You’re taking this well.”
I climbed on top of him. “I might die at any second. I need to go out on a high note.”
“He’s not here, and you will be nowhere near him when we take him down.” He held my hips, arched and slid against me. My eyelids quivered. He rolled us over and pressed me into the bed. “We’ll leave soon, in a few days. Are you ready for that? I could find somewhere for you to go, somewhere out of the way while we hunt.” He didn’t say he’d “send” me, this time. That was an improvement.
“No. I can hang out with a girlfriend while you’re busy and…” I took a deep breath. “I’d rather be close to you.”
He kissed me, slowly stretching my arms over my head and holding them there. “So long as you stay with me and, every once in a while, listen, you’ll be safe. I promise.”
I wrenched one arm free, grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his mouth down to mine. “Right, like I said. Safety first.”
* * * * *
If you loved
Running in the Dark,
get sucked in again with
Don’t Bite the Messenger,
also by Regan Summers. Available now.
The vampire population may have created an economic boom in Alaska, but their altered energy field fries most technology. They rely
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About the Author
Regan Summers was born in Alaska and now lives in Anchorage with her husband and alien-monkey hybrid of a child. Raised on a steady diet of classic British literature and comic books, she can suspend disbelief in the space of a heartbeat, and believes that hard work leads to happiness.
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ISBN: 978-14268-9454-1
Copyright © 2012 by Hillary Jacques
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