Aden (Vampires in America #7)

Aden (Vampires in America #7) Page 32

“What you said was pretty clear, Aden,” she said, wondering if he enjoyed his little lectures as much as she hated them.

“I’m sure it was, but it had absolutely nothing to do with you.”

“If not me, then who? Who’s the woman who’s getting in the way of your grand plans?”

He gave her a quizzical look, as if there was some obvious truth she was missing. “Silas, of course,” he said.

Sid stared at him. “Silas is a woman?”

“To be accurate, Silas is a female vampire.”

“I just assumed—”

“You assumed she was male,” he tsked. “Not terribly liberated, Sidonie.”

“Hey, most of you guys are . . . well, guys.”

“Silas is most assuredly not a guy. She’s quite beautiful if one cares for the type.”

“What type?” Sid asked, feeling a twinge of jealousy.

“The type who will cut off your balls without remorse if the mood strikes her. And I’m not speaking figuratively.”

Sid stared at him. “You mean she’s actually—”

“I’m told she has a collection.”

She wrinkled her nose. “That’s disgusting. You should definitely kill her.”

“I plan on it, but not in search of some cosmic justice for males everywhere. She’s in my way, so she has to go.”

His hand, which had been stroking her cheek, dropped to her neck and grabbed a handful of hair, tugging her head back so she had to look up at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving town?”

“I didn’t think you’d care. Besides, you knew anyway. Your cover was pretty much blown when Kage rescued me at the train station. Thank you for that, by the way.”

Aden’s hand clenched almost painfully in her hair, and he went preternaturally still, his eyes gleaming as if lit from behind. “Rescued you from what?”

“Some guy,” Sid told him. “He sat near me on the train, but I brushed him off. I thought that was it, but then in the station he got really pushy about giving me a ride. Kage showed up just in time.”

“What did he look like?” he demanded.

But before she could answer, there was a knock on her door. Aden glanced down the hallway, and the next thing she knew her front door lock was gliding open, and Bastien was standing at the entrance to her living room, his dark hair slicked back and shining in the moonlight, his eyes fixed on Aden.

“Kage just reported in,” Bastien said. “Sidonie was approached this evening.”

“I just heard,” Aden agreed. “Did Kage know him?”

“No, my lord. But the assailant most definitely knew Kage.”

Aden drew Sid against him in a protective gesture, even though there was no one in the room except Bastien. He cupped her chin, tilting her head back until she was looking at him.

“What did he look like, Sidonie?”

She took his hand and turned in his embrace, leaning against his side with his arm heavy over her shoulders. “Nothing about him stood out. He was a little bit taller than I am, brown hair, brown eyes, fit, but on the slender side. He said his name was Vasco.”

Aden spoke over her head, addressing Bastien. “Sound familiar?”

“Was he human?” Bastien asked, his eyes eerily intent as his gaze cut to her.

“I think so. It was after dark when I got on the train, but he’d have to be human, wouldn’t he? I mean, I didn’t go to my parents’ place until this morning, so how could he have . . .”

Her voice trailed off, because neither vampire was paying any attention to her.

“Silas, you think, my lord? The description could fit Balderas.”

“Who’s Balderas?” Sid asked.

“Silas’s daylight security chief,” Aden growled. “One of two.”

“She has two security chiefs?”

“Daylight security. And Silas likes to surround herself with men, especially human men. They’re her favorite food source. Unfortunately for them, her idea of post-coital relations all too frequently resembles that of a black widow spider. Balderas must not be her type, because he’s been around long enough to be noticeable. What did he say to you?”

Sid hadn’t paid much attention to what he’d said. Her focus had been on getting rid of him. “If it was Balderas,” she qualified, then paused when Bastien shoved a cell phone under her nose with a picture of . . . “Okay, fine. That’s him. Mostly he talked about himself and commodities trading. What kind of security chief is hung up on commodities trading?”

“One who was a trader before he was convicted of fraud and did a stint in federal prison.”

“Oh. He was a little intense.”

Aden took her by the shoulders and turned her in the direction of her bedroom. “Pack some things. You’re coming home with me.”

She spun back around. “What? Why?”

He gave her a droll look. “You don’t want to go home with me?”

Sid’s heart leapt at the heated look in his eyes. A look that said going home implied a lot more than sleeping in a guest room.

“Fine,” she agreed and, ignoring his confident smirk, went off to pack.

ADEN SPRAWLED lazily on his bed, still fully clothed, his back against the headboard as he watched Sidonie unpack the few things she’d grudgingly brought with her. It wasn’t much. He didn’t know if she didn’t want to intrude, or, more likely, if she was unwilling to surrender her independence enough to stay with him longer than she had to. But whichever it was, she was here, and here she was staying. She just didn’t know it yet.

“You can use all of the drawers in that dresser,” he said, pointing. “It’s empty.”

“You don’t use it?”

“I use the one in the closet. That one’s art.”

She ran her hand over the delicate flower motif and mother-of-pearl inlays on the chest of drawers. “This is beautiful. Is it, um, original?”

“Is that a delicate way of asking if it’s an antique, something from my past? I’m not worried about my age, Sidonie. But, yes, that’s an original fifteenth century Ottoman, and no, I only purchased it a few years ago.”

“All right,” she said, turning to give him a gimlet stare. “So, how old are you?”

He laughed, something he’d done much more frequently since meeting her. “I was born in 1753. This body”—he touched a hand to his T-shirted chest and noted with satisfaction that her gaze followed the gesture appreciatively—“reflects more or less my age when my Mistress acquired me and made me Vampire. I was close to twenty-seven years old at the time, although I could be off by a year or two. I was a bastard and a slave. What records existed were hardly precise.”

Sidonie had crossed the room while he spoke, and she now climbed up onto the bed to straddle his thighs. Her eyes were soft and sad, and he knew it was because of what he’d told her about his early life. She pretended to be tough, but his Sidonie was tender-hearted, the toughness only a thin shell that protected her from the carelessness of others.

Whoa. His Sidonie? He did a mental double take at that thought. When had she become his? And not in the way of previous lovers whom he’d only claimed for a day or two until he was done with them, and even then only because he didn’t like to share. Sidonie was his in a way he’d never considered before, a way that would last a hell of a lot longer than a day or two. A way that said he didn’t plan on sharing her ever.

She leaned forward, gentle hands cupping his cheeks, her full breasts barely touching his chest as she brushed a kiss over his mouth. He wanted more. His arms banded around her back as he rolled her beneath him and took what he needed. His mouth was hard on her soft lips, his tongue plundering as she opened to him, her hungry moan telling him he wasn’t the only one who needed more.

He shoved his hand under her sweater and palmed her breast through the lace of her bra, feeling her nipple poke at his fingers. With a growl, he yanked on the delicate fabric, hearing it tear and not caring. He’d buy her a new bra. He’d buy her a hundred. Right now, he needed her naked, and the bra was in the way. Lifting slightly, he pushed her sweater up over her breasts and released the front clasp on the torn bra with a deft twist of his fingers. Her breasts spilled out heavy and full, her nipples flushed a deep rose against her pale skin.

Unable to resist their temptation, Aden took one of the plump morsels in his mouth, sucking until the pink rose became a succulent cherry, so hard and engorged with blood that he could smell it, so rich that it made his fangs elongate with hunger. Beneath him, Sidonie was making eager little noises, her breaths choppy, her fingers tunneling through his hair, holding him against her breast, almost begging him to bite, to taste her blood. But he wasn’t ready to release her to an orgasm just yet. He wanted her hot and begging.

He bit down until he knew she could feel the sting of his teeth, heard her suck in a breath and hold it in anticipation of his bite, but he didn’t let his teeth sink in, he didn’t draw blood. Lifting his mouth from her flesh, he switched to the other breast, smiling against her hot skin at the sound of her groan, her hand fisted against his back, pounding once in frustration.

Stroking his hand down over her hip, he cupped the curve of her ass, then slapped her once, smartly. She jumped, but it only seemed to heighten her arousal, as he’d known it would. Aden would never beat a woman, he’d never beat anyone who was weaker than he was, but he was a master at understanding the sensuous pleasure to be found in the right kind of pain.

Sucking her second breast into his mouth, he lavished it as he had the first, sliding his tongue over her nipple, feeling the blood pulse, sucking harder until the entire tip of her breast was between his teeth. He bit down again, knowing there’d be marks on her delicate flesh tomorrow and taking pleasure in the knowledge. He’d mark every inch of her before he was through.

“Aden,” she gasped, her breath warm and wet against his ear.