Love Bites Part 8

Max raked a hand through his dark brown hair. "It's none of my business, but we're like family. This isn't gonna sit well with the rest of the guys. You do what you have to, but just remember: Interspecies relations.h.i.+ps don't work." He hit the swinging door with his knuckles and left the room.

Darcy busied herself removing the pan of enchiladas from the oven and the salad Phil had brought from the fridge. Although her back was to the door, she knew who stepped into the kitchen next. The rumble of voices in the living room grew louder.

"I hope you have something other than that mess in the pan to feed me," Quentin said.

She opened a utensil drawer and extracted a spatula, then slammed the drawer shut. "There's a couple steaks, nice and b.l.o.o.d.y, in the fridge. Help yourself." She turned to face him. "Are you trying to get yourself exterminated?"

"I warned you." His voice radiated quiet fury. "You've bathed, but his scent is still all over you."

"It won't work between us, Quentin," she said quietly.

"Because the guys are mad as h.e.l.l at me?"

"No. Because there's no future for us."

Quentin crossed his arms over his chest. "As long as you remain human, there certainly isn't."

Her eyes widened. "Are you saying what I think you are?"

"I can give you eternity."

"To spend it with you?" she asked incredulous. "How arrogant you sound. Do you think all humans aspire to immortality?"

"Don't you? And don't tell me you haven't ever considered it." His gaze narrowed. "I won't believe you."

Darcy stopped herself from denying it. It was true. Especially, since she'd met him. "That wouldn't change how I feel. Would it?"

"It's a risky process, I admit. More humans die than make the change. And some aren't the same after they turn. Some lose their souls."

"Doesn't sound like much of a choice." She didn't know why, but she felt close to tears. His argument only strengthened her belief that their relations.h.i.+p wasn't meant to be. She turned and opened a drawer to pull out the silverware.

Quentin's arms circled her waist and pulled her close to his body. "I'll make you want me more than him."

Darcy fought the urge to surrender to his embrace.

"You can't deny your attraction to me and the dark and dirty things I do to you. Did he make you scream?" He grabbed her a.s.s and squeezed. "Did you wriggle your little a.s.s for him because you wanted it so bad you felt like you'd die of want?"

Darcy's breath grew ragged but she refused to answer him. Her body was doing all the talking. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s grew heavy and pointed, and her p.u.s.s.y was damp with her desire.

"Well darling, you begged for my touch. Think about it, tonight. Remember what I can make you feel. You'll crave my touch and my c.o.c.k. Before the sun rises, you'll be mine."

CHAPTER SIX.

Two nights later the team hit pay dirt.

The weather had turned stormy. High winds from the Atlantic whipped up six-foot whitecaps that had the most devout surfers heading north to Cocoa to catch the waves despite the chilly air.

Just after dusk, Phil radioed in that a group of young vamps were tras.h.i.+ng a nightclub along the boardwalk.

Joe drove with Darcy in the front seat. If Quentin was chafing at the distance Darcy had kept since the team discovered their dalliance, at least he had the satisfaction of knowing Joe hadn't enjoyed the woman's favors either. They'd both been shut out in the cold.

No matter how hard he'd tried to break through the icy barrier she'd erected, Darcy had repelled every advance. She slept alone on the sofa, although he'd offered to return the use of her bed. He was secretly glad when she refused. Although he was tortured surrounded by her scent, he wanted her to imagine him there-sleeping on her pink pillows, stretched across the mattress where they'd shared wicked delights. He hoped like h.e.l.l she got as little sleep as he did.

They barely spoke except to discuss the evening's business. Something had to give soon. Quentin planned to be the man nearest when Darcy broke.

Joe, Darcy, and Quentin arrived outside the bar just as a man was tossed through the plate gla.s.s window. Quentin didn't have to look closely to know the man had been drained dry first.

"Perhaps, I should go in by myself," Quentin said, his hand on Darcy's arm.

"Do you think we haven't faced a real rave before?" she asked.

Quentin bristled. Those were the most words she'd spoken directly to him all evening. "You want information, don't you? If you go in with your bows c.o.c.ked, they won't be in the mood to talk."

A scream rent the air and Quentin stepped ahead of Joe and Darcy to cut them off. The rest of the team was arriving for clean up. He had to be quick. Letting his incisors slide into place, he entered the bar.

There were four young vamps inside. Their T-s.h.i.+rts with the Ron Jon surfer logos looked incongruous with their armored faces. They'd paired off and were dining on their newest victims. The bodies strewn between the tables were evidence of their rampaging bloodl.u.s.t.

Quentin lifted his head and snarled, his deep growl alerting the vamps of his presence.

One of them, a lean, blond-haired teenager, lifted his head from the gaping wound of a woman who looked more dead than alive. "You're on our turf. Move out," he said.

"You're attracting undue attention, children. Did your sire not mentor you in the need for discretion?" Quentin said, with a sniff. "You lack finesse."

The young vamp's lips lifted in a snarl. "Don't need it. This is a lot more fun. Now move out, old man."

Quentin raised an eyebrow. "I'll let you live for another minute or two if you answer one question."

The others raised their heads from their meals, their deep thirst forgotten in the challenge he had issued.

The blond, who must be their leader, dropped the woman and stalked toward Quentin. When he was half a dozen paces away, he launched himself at Quentin in a single impressive leap.

Quentin sidestepped the boy who landed against a table, overturning it and several chairs. Before he could extricate himself from the tangle, Quentin reached down and staked him through the chest. He disintegrated into dust, leaving only his rumpled jeans, T-s.h.i.+rt, and tennis shoes.

Quentin turned back to the remaining three. "Now, about that question..."

The three looked at each other and raised their hands.

"What the h.e.l.l do you want to know?" Another sun-bleached blond youth asked.

"Where can I find your sire?"

"The Master?"

Quentin snorted. Nicky really was reaching. "Nicky. Where do I find him? We're old friends." He took a step toward them, and they backed away.

"He has his own place now. If you're a friend, how come you don't know?"

"I just arrived in town." Displeased with their lack of candor, Quentin let his armor reform his face to indicate his impatience.

"All right, man. He's got a place near here. In South Beach Park." His face morphed. He couldn't be more than sixteen and beardless. "You aren't going to tell him we left a mess, are you?"

"I'm wondering how you propose to extricate yourself from this?"

"Huh?"

"You won't be leaving this place, except in a dustbin."

Darcy and Joe stepped through the door. More of the SU team members peered through the window, crossbows and spear guns aimed at the three. "s.h.i.+t!"

"Keep one alive," Quentin said. In an instant, two sets of clothing crumpled to the floor.

Dressed in black, they'd taken up positions behind the concrete block wall that enclosed the property

on the beach side. The incoming tide lapped just feet away, and the smell of rain was in the air. Light

poured from windows. Music blared within. It seemed a party was in full flourish. Hunkered down next to the gate, Quentin whispered, "Be sure to keep the rest of the unit back until I give the signal. They stink of gun oil. I can smell it from here."

"We're going in with you," Darcy said.

"No you're not."

"Look, I know you've got a bug up your a.s.s about the sleeping arrangements," Joe said, "but Darcy and

I are supposed to be your shadows." "Darcy's made it abundantly clear, who's in and who's out," Quentin said between gritted teeth. "We aren't a team."

"Fine," Darcy said, laying a hand on Joe's arm. "You go right on ahead. We'll try not to get in your way." "You're staying put." She smiled, her teeth a white slash in the moonlight. "Of course. I always do what I'm told." "d.a.m.n stubborn wench," he muttered. "Pompous, arrogant a.s.shole," she replied, still smiling. "Darcy, keep clear of Nicky." If Nicky knew what the girl meant to him... "Time's a-wasting," Joe whispered. He lowered the microphone on his headset to his mouth. "We're going in." Quentin pushed open the gate and skirted the wall on the inside, keeping to the shadows and using the foliage of the palms and bougainvillea to hide behind as he crept along. Not that vampires couldn't see into the darkness. French doors opened with a spill of light onto a slate tile patio. A lone figure stepped outside and lit a cigarette. The flare of the lighter illuminated the face of the vampire they'd come to kill. The hair on the back of Quentin's neck rose. This was too easy. "You may as well quit skulking in the bushes, Father. I see you received my message," Nicholas Powell said. Quentin heard Darcy's gasp. He straightened and approached the monster he'd created.

Darcy glanced at Joe. His face had hardened to stone.

It couldn't be. Quentin couldn't be responsible for creating this evil vampire. But she didn't have time to consider the implications. They'd been made. She rose from her crouch and surveyed the courtyard. Her gaze lifted to the balcony above them.

Two vampires trained automatic weapons on her and Joe. The gun oil Quentin's keen sense of smell had detected hadn't come from the SU team. Then the thought came unbidden, had Quentin set them up for a slaughter?

"I'm flattered, Quentin. You've come all this way to see me. You and your friends must come inside." It wasn't an invitation. With an indolent wave of his hand, Nicky signaled to more vamps who spilled out the doorway. "After you. But first, drop your weapons."

Quentin raised the stake in his hand and then laid it at his feet. Joe and Darcy lowered their crossbows. It took every bit of her willpower to abandon her weapon.

Quentin stepped through the doorway. He didn't glance behind him to see whether they followed.

"Don't be shy," Nicky said. "Come inside and join the party."

Darcy stepped onto the tile patio. As she drew abreast Nicky, he held out his hand. "I'll take your headsets."

Inside the house, it became immediately apparent a trap had been set. There wasn't a human in sight, just five more vampires, unholy grins on their distorted faces.

"So what do you think of my humble abode?"

Darcy had just met the dark-haired vampire, but his voice, low and sardonic already grated on every last one of her nerves. She glanced about her, checking exits and for items that could be used as weapons if her weapon of last resort was taken from her. Slate tile covered the floor, and unless the beige leather sofas could be used to batter a vamp to the ground, only the gla.s.s and chrome tables offered any possibilities.

Quentin stood in the center of the living room and had yet to look her way. But his stiff posture and neutral expression rea.s.sured her that at least he was as much a victim as she was.

"So what do we have here? GI Joe and Jane?" Nicky said as he circled them. He halted in front of Darcy and looked her up and down. His dark eyes smoldered. Leanly built and muscular, Darcy didn't doubt Nicky would prove difficult to best in a one-on-one.

She glared at him, her hands fisting at her sides.

"Is she your woman?" Nicky turned to Quentin, one eyebrow raised.

Quentin remained silent.

"Hardly seems your type. She's rather plain. And not a curve to feast on," he said, his voice silky.

"Rather like taking a boy. Do you like boys, Quentin?" Quentin snorted. "Just for breakfast." He nodded to the vamps circling the perimeter of the room. "Seems your appet.i.tes are decidedly male, these days."

"I learn from my mistakes. Women are strictly for nourishment." He walked behind her and his fingers trailed down her throat. "They make lousy soldiers." Darcy forced herself to remain still, although she knew her escalating heart rate betrayed her alarm. Her gaze sought Quentin's, but his stare remained on Nicky.

"Monica was a little unstable," Quentin replied.

"Fancied herself in love with me, can you imagine? How are our friends, Dylan and Emmy, by the way?"

Quentin shrugged. "I haven't heard from them."

"I must give them my regards when I see them next. I didn't have the chance before I left Seattle. I was

rather rushed." Darcy wondered how long the glib conversation would last. At this point, she couldn't have gotten a word past her lips. Nicky's fingers continued to trace her neck and jaw. She swallowed.

"So when will the rest of the team arrive?" Nicky asked so casually, it took a moment for the words to register. She stiffened and feared her reaction had given something important away. A little smile curved the corners of Quentin's lips. The smirk she'd come to love. A short staccato burst of gunfire sounded from the front of the house. Quentin's gaze s.h.i.+fted to Darcy, and he lifted his chin. Darcy took it as a signal to act. She grasped Nicky's finger and bit.

"b.i.t.c.h!" His fist punched her back, over the kidneys. Despite the Kevlar jacket she wore, Darcy nearly pa.s.sed out. But she didn't let go of his finger. In a blur of motion, Quentin leapt toward them and Darcy opened her mouth, releasing Nicky and rolling away. The sound of breaking gla.s.s and wood came from behind her, but Darcy continued to roll until she