Chapter Forty
Raj was going too fast when he pulled into the narrow garage. His tires spun on the slick surface as he hit the brakes and the bumper kissed the far wall. His blood was still boiling, adrenaline still racing through his system. It was hard enough to come down from the rush of a combat high after a confrontation like the one at the blood house, but it was even harder with Sarah's slender hands roaming all over him as he raced through the Buffalo streets.
"Stop it, Sarah,” he said for what felt like the hundredth time. Her response was the same, too—a soft, purring laugh that made his cock hard and his fangs ache.
He opened his car door with a snarled oath and marched around to her side. She hadn't moved, hadn't even unbuckled her seat belt. Gritting his teeth against what he knew was going to happen, he reached across and mashed the release on the belt, not evening surprised when he felt her fingers run down his belly and between his legs.
"Ooooooh,” she cooed. “Is this for me?"
"Jesus Christ.” Raj lifted her out of the car, propped her up long enough to enter his security code, then threw her over his shoulder and shoved roughly through the door. He waited until he heard the lock snap shut behind him, punched in the second code on the interior panel and carried her downstairs, opening the vault door before setting her down inside.
Amazingly, she seemed to have run out of steam at last, leaning against him with a small sigh and resting her head against his chest, her arms draped loosely around his waist beneath his jacket. Raj glanced down at her golden blond head against the black of his sweater, her face hidden behind the fall of her hair. “Sarah?” he said softly.
"Mmmm?"
"You still with me?"
She laughed softly and did a little twisting motion with her hips, reminding him he was still hard as a rock against her belly. He put her aside and activated his daytime security system, turning to find her watching him, her smoky hazel eyes smoldering with emotion, their gold flecks bright in the warm glow of his lamps. She dropped her jacket to the floor and for the first time he noticed what she was wearing. Faded denims clung to her legs and hips like a second skin, showing off firm thighs and that wonderful heart-shaped ass. Her breasts were showcased by a strapless top, red satin against her pale skin, tight enough that the full mounds plumped out invitingly. He wanted to close his eyes against the temptation, but couldn't quite convince himself to do so.
Sarah saw him watching and ran a teasing finger along the top of the red satin, stroking her hand down in a caressing motion until it rested at her waist. She smiled. “At last we meet, Raj."
"Don't, Sarah,” he said softly.
"Why not?” she inquired sweetly. “I know you want to. Come on, sweetheart. Let's fuck."
His anger returned in a rush. He was furious that she'd put herself in that kind of danger, furious that she'd forced him to show his hand before he was ready. “When I fuck you,” he snarled. “It won't be because you're acting like a bitch in heat over the scent of a bunch of mongrel dogs."
Sarah jerked as if he'd slapped her, her eyes filling with tears, hurt written over every inch of her face. “That was cruel,” she whispered, “even for you."
It was cruel. Cruel and unfair. He knew it, but he'd be damned if he'd apologize, not after she'd played that stupid trick with the blood house. She knew the other women had been taken from blood houses. She'd seen the kind of security he had in place for her protection at the warehouse, and still she'd gone haring off on her own, just to prove that she could.
"I want to go home,” she said in a small voice.
"Too bad.” She looked up at him in dismay. “It's nearly sunrise,” he explained.
"But,” she looked around, like a trapped animal seeking escape. “Just open the door. I can—"
"I don't think so,” he said dismissively. “You should shower,” he said, gesturing toward the bathroom. “I've got some clothes you can put on."
"All right,” she said in that tiny voice, like she wanted to disappear. It infuriated him because he knew he was the one who'd made her feel that way. He felt like an asshole as he watched her walk away, watched her kick off her shoes and slip barefoot into the bathroom through the half-open door, closing it behind her with a hitch in her breath.
He had already changed by the time she came out. She was wearing the sweatshirt he'd set inside the door, but not the pants. Her legs were bare, but the shirt hung down to her knees like a nightgown. His clothes. She was wearing his clothes. And when she was forced to come closer in order to get to the bed, he could smell his soap on her skin. Em was right. If he wanted her, he needed to do something about it. And if not, he needed to let her go.
"You can have the bed,” he said gently, trying to make amends. “I'll take the couch."
"It doesn't matter,” she said, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. “I probably won't sleep."
"Sure, you will."
Her look of confusion was the last thing he saw before she fell into his arms. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, “but I can't have you waking up before I do.” He carried her to the bed and tucked her in, brushing a lock of golden hair out of her face. “Sleep well."
He lay down on the leather couch, exquisitely aware of Sarah sleeping in his bed only a few feet away. He rolled over once or twice, sat up and shifted to the other end, trying to find a comfortable position. He lay back and gave it up as a lost cause. Once the sun took him, it wouldn't matter anyway.
Chapter Forty-one
Raj awoke hungry and horny, with the solution to both of his problems lying right there in his bed, all toasty warm and flushed with health. He rose to his feet slowly, stretching every muscle, hearing his neck crack after the uncomfortable day on the too-short couch. He crossed the room and stood above her in the near perfect dark of his inner sanctum, watching her sleep. He could hear every beat of her heart, could feel the moisture of every breath, the heat of her body warming the cold sheets of his bed. It had been a mistake to bring her here. An even bigger mistake to do so when he'd gone so long without feeding. He'd meant to stop and feed last night, but then the call had come that Sarah was at the blood house and now . . . here she was.
Memories filled his head—of her dancing with the dark-haired vampire, her body rubbing up against his, his hands all over her. Raj closed his eyes against a fresh swell of rage. When he opened them, she was still there, still sleeping. She was his. Why not take her?
His fangs lengthened eagerly, emerging from between his lips. He opened his mouth to stretch his jaw. As if aware of the danger lurking over her, Sarah murmured in her sleep and rolled over. Her scent drifted up to him, delicate and sweet, laced with the scent of his soap, his clothing. His cock grew hard and heavy, unrestrained in the loose sweatpants he'd put on only because she was with him. He growled softly, aware of a cool, blue glow in the room, the light from his eyes, burning with the heat of two different hungers.
His cell phone rang. A welcome distraction. He crossed the room and checked caller ID. It was Emelie. Of course. She was probably worried about him. Or maybe about Sarah.
Raj didn't answer. Let her think he was in the shower; he would be soon enough. He grabbed up a pair of denims and strode into the bathroom without looking at the bed, closing the door before he could catch another glimpse of the temptation lying there.
The shower woke Sarah. At least she thought that's what it must have been. There was no other noise in the room, and while the lights were dim, there was enough that she could see. The bathroom door was closed and she sat up, pulling the covers with her. She didn't remember falling asleep, but she remembered everything else. Her entire body flushed with embarrassment at the memory of Raj storming into the crowded room, coming to rescue her from her own stupidity.
She'd had no idea what the blood house would be like, hadn't even considered there might be such a strong aphrodisiac effect in the air itself. She remembered Raj saying something about it at his club in New York. When she'd had that erotic . . . whatever it had been, right there on the dance floor. But she'd written that off as a reaction to Raj himself. Stupid.
But it wasn't all her fault. What did he think that she was going to do, sit in that stupid warehouse like a good, little dog, waiting for master to come pet her on the head? If he'd just told her what was going on, or better yet, if he'd agreed to visit the blood houses with her like she'd wanted, none of this would have happened.
Honesty forced her to admit she'd been careless, though. She'd realized that from the minute she stepped into the house, beginning with the waiver they made her sign, the appraising looks of the vampires at the door. She'd known right away what everyone assumed she wanted. It was the same thing everyone else there wanted. Sex and blood. Not that she would have minded a little sex and blood herself, it was just that she wanted Raj and only him. But he didn't want her. Or he didn't want to want her which was the same thing. Especially when the vampire in question was Mister I'm-in-Control Raj.
The other vampires had seemed to like her well enough. That dark-haired vamp had been all over her. Oh, be honest, Sarah, you were all over him too. That's why she rarely drank. It made people stupid. But she'd had a taste last night of what it must feel like to be drunk, and it hadn't been all bad. For once in her life, she hadn't worried about whether she was too short or her breasts too big. Hadn't worried that the nice guy sitting next to her might be a serial rapist or some other sort of freak who only wanted to follow her home and do horrible things to her. It had felt good, or at least it had felt good until Raj showed up and made her feel like a complete whore. A complete unwanted whore.
The bathroom door opened, splashing light into the room. She shrank away from the light, growing still as Raj emerged, wearing nothing but pants. They were black denim, hanging low on his hips with the button undone and the zipper halfway open. His chest was bare and still damp and Sarah swallowed a gasp at how beautiful he was. His shoulders were broad and thick with muscle, his chest firm and well-defined, tapering down to a narrow waist and hard, flat belly. His skin glowed golden in the light from the bathroom, and a barely visible down of curly blond hair sprinkled his chest before arrowing straight to the opening of his unbuttoned pants.
