Home > Sex and the Single Vamp(5)

Sex and the Single Vamp(5)
Author: Robin Covington

“We already settled on payment. It’s included.” He couldn’t leave her with that crap system. He’d never sleep at night.

“You railroaded me into that agreement.”

Damn, he loved it when her eyes flashed blue with the intensity of her emotion. They had drawn him in even before she was turned, and he found himself tweaking her just to experience the fire one more time.

“Yes, I did,” he said easily. “But you agreed, sweetheart, and not because you thought for one damn minute that I would refuse to help you if you didn’t.” Now she broke eye contact but he was having none of it, grasping her chin lightly and turning her back to face him. Her expression was stony, but something that resembled fear spoke to him in the slight tremor of her lips. “I think your business is crazy, and you think I’m an a**hole who is ruled by his dick. But we worked lots of missions together and that counts for something. I’ve always had your back and I always will. This thing between us needs to be dealt with once and for all.”

“So why can’t it wait until all of this is done?”

“Because you and I both know that once I fix this mess for you, you’ll go back to avoiding me.”

He rose from his perch on the desk, straightening to his full height, and pressing as much of it as he could against her body. She stiffened at first contact, but as they stood and stared at each other, her body melted into his, softening and warming with the heat they created by just being in the same room. He moved his hand from her chin, skimming the soft skin of her jaw until he speared his fingers into the silken titian strands of her hair. They were slippery and cool against his skin as he burrowed in and palmed her head and tugged her forward. His movements were fueled by need and less smooth than he normally used in the seduction of women, but this was Cici in front of him with her full br**sts pressed against his chest and her lips parting on a sound somewhere between a whimper and a sigh.

“I think…” She licked her lips, the wetness triggering a response in him that made his knees buckle slightly. “I think you might be exaggerating this attraction between us.”

“Oh really?” He let his fangs descend, the tension in his body screaming for some release—screaming for her blood. But he never engaged in blood play. It was too intimate for him, a connection with another person that he had no interest in making. Sex was fun. Sex was hot and dirty and very over once the sweat cooled on your skin. But Cici made him want to sink fang and c*ck into her so deep they were one body. He wouldn’t allow it, but the need was distractingly powerful.

“Happy.” He murmured his nickname for her against the warm column of her neck, his fangs grazing lightly as he blazed a trail of kisses up to her ear. She shivered, her small hands clutching at his shirt and dragging him closer, her legs parting slightly, skirt riding higher, to allow him to insert his thigh between hers and wedge their bodies together. His dick, hard and aching, pressed against her core as they humped slowly in an ancient rhythm that felt new with her. He whispered in her ear. “You are a woman who has pretended to be other people for your country. You have stolen, betrayed, and killed to protect others. You are brave, smart, and proud.”

He pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, the flash of blue resembling the purest part of flame.

“You’re not a coward or a liar.”

Deacon kissed her then, his mouth coaxing the truth from her that her pride would not let her admit. She opened to him immediately and he took what she offered. His tongue swept inside her mouth, tangling with hers before he retreated to run a fang along the tender skin on the inside of her lower lip. Cici gasped, her hands traveling from his shirt to tangle in his hair, her tug not so gentle as she dragged his mouth back to hers. This time she led the possession, taking him with a rough need that contradicted her earlier words.

He palmed her ass, the skirt riding up high enough for him to feel smooth skin and give him the fantasy-inducing knowledge that she wore a thong. Cici rode his thigh, the kiss becoming messier and more carnal with each passing second. Deacon wanted to reach down, unzip his cargo pants, and free his heavy length from its current place of strangling torture. It would take no time to push aside her flimsy excuse for underwear and slide inside until she covered him with her warmth.

Now was not the time.

His entire crew was just outside of her shitty excuse for a security door and he would not be caught with his pants around his ankles by one of his men. He pulled back reluctantly, breaking the physical connection, but unable to do anything to sever the tether of emotion that tied them together.

Cici stumbled backward on her high heels, catching herself on the small conference table behind her. She looked dazed, aroused, and delicious.

“You. Wet and willing. In my bed.” He licked his lips, tasting her as he willed his fangs to recede. “Anything less than that and I will go mad. You get me?”

She nodded. “Yes. I get you.”

“No more lies about how we don’t have to do this, that we don’t want to do this.” He could hear Andy walking toward the office down the hallway, but this needed to be said once and for all. “No lies between us as long as your life is in danger. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Cici looked as if she’d just signed away her soul to the devil. He knew what that felt like; he’d done just that two hundred and thirty-nine years ago.

Andy’s knock on the door was harsh in the silence of her space. The door swung open and he poked his head inside. “Good time, boss?”

“Yes.” Both he and Cici answered at the same time.

Andy looked startled and then sheepish. “I meant Deacon.”

“Of course,” Cici answered primly, a blush pinkening her cheeks. He ached to touch her skin to see if it had warmed as well.

“Andy, always remember”—he winked at Cici, taking the moment to lighten the mood between them—“when Cici’s around, she’s the boss.”

“And when I’m not around?” Cici asked.

“I get to pretend I’m the boss.”

She laughed and he motioned for Andy to fully enter the room.

“I’ve got the comms connected to her network. Everything you need is accessible here and at the office and remotely.” Andy handed over the iPad in his hands, and Deacon tapped on the icons until her wall-mounted monitor came to life.

“Cici.” He opened up files, documents, and photographs filling the screen space. She winced, physically shrinking backward when the photographs of the first crime scene flashed up in gory HD. He minimized those pictures, unwilling to cause her unnecessary pain. “As we were discussing a few moments ago, I’ve looked into your e-mail and servers to try to track where the threats are coming from.”

“The phone calls were tracked to burner phones. No names. Paid for in cash and the clerks all say a woman bought them. Pretty much a dead end,” Andy said.

Deacon picked up the thread. “The e-mails were sent from Internet cafés and libraries. Pretty standard stuff for someone who wants to avoid being traced.” He tapped on a photograph and it zoomed out and the screen filled with the ugly dude with the big black tattoo on his neck. “This guy got sloppy and sent one from home. His name is Boz Lynch, a known meth addict who will do dirty work for a few bucks to feed his habit.”

He turned to look at Cici; he was hitting the topics that might be painful for her. “He’s also a known supporter and member of the Fellowship of Adam’s Race.”

“I’ve heard of them. They’ve picketed quite a few of my public appearances,” Cici said.

“They think Others of any kind should be killed, but they’ll settle for internment camps,” Andy said.

“When the law does not agree with them they satisfy themselves by resorting to all types of hate crimes, including murder,” Deacon said.

“Our kind act like they’re the bogeyman. Some believe and some do not. How do you know they exist?” Cici asked.

“Because they tried to kill me and…” Deacon knew this was going to be hard for her to hear, but she needed to know the truth. He reached out and grasped her shoulder. “They killed your family.”

Cici paled so quickly he scooped her close to keep her from falling over, pulled out a chair, and put her in it. Shock for a vampire wasn’t that different from a human, and he chafed her hands to warm them. Andy appeared over his shoulder with a glass full of whiskey by the smell of it.

“Here, drink.” Deacon lifted the glass to her lips, satisfied when she took a couple of sips and some color returned to her face. “Sorry. There was no easy way to break that to you.”

She waved off his offering of another drink, sitting up a little higher in the chair. Defiance coated every word. “That can’t be true. FAR only killed people who helped Others.” She pushed hair back from her face, the slight tremble in her hands betraying her inner turmoil as she worked through these emotions. Understanding took over her confusion; she began to believe. “That’s why you and my father were such good friends.”

“He was a good man. One of the best friends I ever had,” Deacon said. He still missed talking with him late at night. Well-read and funny, Josiah Trent had made his solitary existence bearable and had coaxed him back into society. And he’d brought Cici into his life. “He was one of a few supporters in Williamsburg, and he didn’t want you to know.”

“You never told me. All these years and you never told me.”

“After a while I didn’t see the point.”

“Why?” Cici asked, her eyes begging him to make sense of the violence that took her family from her.

“Josiah was a ringleader and FAR knew our kind was on the side of the Revolutionaries. It was a first strike of the impending war, to make America’s cause weaker.” He placed the glass on the table, making sure she was listening to the next part. “It is my belief that they are gaining power again and targeting you because of your visible campaign for a full blending of humans and Others. I don’t think this is related to your father’s involvement.”

“I had no idea they were organized enough to do something like this. I thought they were small-time picketers and the occasional crank call,” she said.

“Guys like Boz are the ones who get the attention these days,” Andy said with a meaningful glance at Deacon. “We think the real Oz behind the curtain is unknown and someone smart enough to pull this off.”

“And you think they’re after me?”

“Yes. This business is like waving a red flag in front of a bull.”

“Don’t start,” she said. They locked eyes, the same old argument wedged between them. He decided to let it go for now.

“I’m going to need to access all of your client files. Talk to them, investigate them. Any one of them could be planted by FAR.”

“What?” Cici sat up straighter in her chair, the armrests groaning under the strain of her vampire-strength white-knuckle grip. “Are you trying to put me out of business? People come to me and expect discretion. I’m already bleeding clients and this will kill me.”

“Cici, I’m not here to save your business. I don’t care if it closes tomorrow. My only concern is your life.” He pointed at the images on the screen. “Those f**kers will kill you in a moment and then throw a party to celebrate.”

Just the thought of someone targeting Cici made Deacon want to chew through a box of nails. The urge to haul her into his arms and protect her from anyone else drew him to his feet with abruptness that startled both Andy and Cici. “I won’t let them hurt you or any more of your clients. I gave your father my word I’d protect you.”

She stared up at him, her blue eyes wide with the impact of his words. He realized too late that he had revealed more than he intended and she would be compelled to ask questions he wasn’t ready to answer.


He knew what she was asking. He could give her this. “Before and after our…situation. Your father was my friend, even if he never became family.”

“I see.” But she didn’t. He wasn’t ready to tell her the entirety of the story, and when she broke eye contact it signaled she wasn’t ready to hear it.

“So what’s next?” she asked, standing and facing the screen. “How do we find the great and powerful Oz?”

“A little B&E, I think.”

“What?” she asked.

“The human and Other divisions of the police are squabbling over this case, like every one that involves a human and our kind. They’re so busy fighting over the juicy bone that they’ll miss something.”

“We hacked into their computer systems so we have all the data, forensics, you name it,” Andy said.

“There are some things you can glean only from a crime scene.” Deacon tapped on the tablet screen, closing out the file. “So we’ll conduct a little breaking and entering to check it out.”

“Can I come with you?” Cici asked.

“Sure. It will be like Berlin.” He smiled when her eyes lit up with shared memories of times spent saving the world from itself. He leaned in and whispered, “Or Vienna.”

“Oh.” Her one word answer told him that she also remembered just how exciting that mission had been together. “I’m in.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Chapter Four

Cici hated waiting.

That had been the hardest part of her missions for the government, the waiting for the right time or for something to happen. She’d stumbled into the spy gig—actually Deacon had asked her to help him with something, and she’d jumped at the chance. He’d shown up out of the blue and needed a woman to play a role so he could get crucial information. She’d agreed immediately. For an immortal woman who was stronger and faster than most men, it had been hard for her to sit on the sidelines and knit, cook, and mend as the women of the time were allowed to do.

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