Death’s Sweet Embrace Page 9

  Collapsing on top of her, he rested his head between her breasts and absently brushed the peaks of her still-erect nipples as he lay there. Antoinette stroked his hair, enjoying his weight on her. She missed this quiet time—when lovemaking was over—but not the physical connection between them.

  Clothes were strewn around the large interior of the stretch limousine, and she chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” Christian sat up and pulled on his jeans.

  “I told you it wouldn’t take that long.”

  “Just wait till I get you home, then I’ll show you how long I can take.” He threw her tank top at her. “You’ll be begging me to stop.”

  “Oh, promises, promises.”

  As he pulled on his T-shirt, she noticed he wasn’t wearing a suit. “I thought you were back here for a meeting?”

  “I am,” he said absently.

  She sat forward and fingered his shirt. “Then why aren’t you wearing a suit? You always wear a suit.”

  “Actually, I wasn’t here to meet with my superiors. I was here to see Rudolf.” He captured her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips. “He was after information on the labs. We discovered another one last month and have a lead on two more.”

  “So, Lucian wasn’t in it alone.”

  “I’ve no doubt that Lucian was behind a lot of this, but I think he was just the tip of the iceberg. Too bad he died before we had a chance to question him.” He turned her hand palm up and nipped at the skin on her wrist before continuing up her arm.

  “Maybe, but I’m glad he’s dead.” Antoinette’s fingers curled as delicious fire burned beneath her skin. “What else did Rudolf tell you?”

  “Nothing,” Christian looked up, his brow forming a V. “Why?”

  “Oh, nothing,” she said, smiling quickly. “He gave us a bit of a pep talk.”

  She hated lying to him, but Oberon had been adamant. The information must stay secret until they knew what they were dealing with. Christian’s brow smoothed out. She could tell by his tight smile he didn’t quite believe her, but he wasn’t going to press the issue either. After all, working for intelligence, she was sure there were lots of things he couldn’t tell her.

  “So how do you like the new penthouse?” he said, deftly changing the subject.

  Christian sold his brownstone and bought a grand penthouse apartment a few weeks ago. The old place just felt too much like Viktor. His malamute, Cerberus, missed his former master terribly and was always down. Even Antoinette could feel the memories of their friend haunting the rooms, and suspected Christian felt the same way though never admitted it.

  He chucked the balled-up hoodie to the seat opposite. “I’m looking forward to spending some more time there soon.”

  “When?” she asked.

  “Soon, baby.” He cupped her cheek and kissed the spot between her eyebrows. “I promise.”

  Yeah, right. I’ll believe that when it happens. She sighed. There wasn’t much point thinking about it when they only had a few hours together. Better to just make the most of it now.

  Chapter 10 - The Ghost of Darkness Past

  The dark apartment felt cold and empty. Kitt’s handbag hit the floor before the door even clicked shut, and her coat quickly followed. She stepped out of her borrowed shoes on her way to fall face-first onto the sofa. Bath, food, and bed—all too hard. She needed to shut her eyes. Just for a minute . . .

  Kitt opened her eyes, blinking in the gloomy morning light. She lifted her head from the patch of drool on the cushion and disgustedly swiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

  Lovely.

  She suddenly realized she was still on the sofa and still dressed in the clothes Antoinette had loaned her. The clock on the wall read three past eight, which meant she’d slept for over two hours instead of just a few minutes.

  Someone’s in the apartment. She instantly froze at the thought.

  Nothing indicated the feeling was a reality, but she knew it was true. There was something not right; something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She wasn’t alone.

  Kitt rolled off the sofa into a crouch on the floor and came up onto the balls of her bare feet with her hands resting on the coffee table. Nothing moved in the shadows and nothing made a sound. Time ticked by on the wall clock. Mere seconds seemed to stretch into a lifetime. Her heart thundered against her chest wall, and the roar of blood pounding in her ears almost deafened her.

  She waited a moment longer before creeping into the kitchen, keeping low. She slid out the biggest stainless steel carving knife from the woodblock beside the stove. The weight felt comforting in her trembling hand as she crept from the kitchen. Maybe leaving the medical examiner’s office wasn’t such a good idea after all—before today, she’d never been attacked by any insane females or had intruders breaking into her apartment.

  But what if it was more than just an intruder? What if it’s that psycho Aeternus bitch come to get me?

  The drawn blinds gave the apartment a ghostly atmosphere of shadows and filtered half-light. She contemplated transforming completely, but switched her eyes instead and made a mental note to put in a request for a gun. Make that two. Big ones.

  Everything seemed quiet—well, as quiet as it gets in a city waking for a day’s work, with tooting car horns and the occasional wailing siren. She flexed her fingers to loosen the white-knuckled grip on the knife handle.

  The corridor to Dylan’s room seemed both endlessly long and dangerously short as she reached into her pocket for her cell.

  Damn. No cell anyway; she’d smashed it against the wall in the alley. Double damn. Not even her pockets.

  No landline either. Since Dylan’s death she didn’t see the point in keeping it up. Nothing she could do about it now.

  Kitt crept along the wall until she reached the bathroom door, which was slightly ajar. A soft scrape came from inside. Shifting her grip on the knife, she kicked open the door to find a man sitting on the edge of her bathtub. Relief washed over her fear, stopping her heart for a split second before being closely followed by anger.

  Raven cleaned dried blood off his chest and torso.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded.

  His eyes dropped to the knife she held as he continued to clean his own wounds. “Are you going to use that?”

  Kitt looked down at the forgotten blade in her hand and placed it on the nearby counter. The cuts looked deep and he was pale with blood loss. To distract herself from looking at his nakedness, she opened the cabinet beneath the double sink and pulled out some medical supplies. The alcohol stung her nostrils as she filled a kidney dish; then, with a pair of forceps, she dipped a clean swab in the clear fluid and turned to him. He hissed sharply as she touched the alcohol-soaked gauze to the jagged cut running across his shoulder.

  It wasn’t that bad, but with the number of wounds he’d sustained tonight, Raven’s parahuman healing abilities had taken a bit of a battering. Risk of infection, while still minimal, was higher in times of decreased immunity. He trembled under her touch. She couldn’t tell if it was shock or something else. She distracted herself by hitting the foot pedal on the trash can to dump the used swab, then reached for a fresh one.

  “Now, are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?” she asked as she worked.

  “I’m not really up to making it back across town and I knew you were close,” he said.

  She stopped and looked at him. “So you broke into my apartment . . . haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d be asleep, and you looked so exhausted crashed out on the lounge that I didn’t have the heart to wake you.” He moved a little closer, his naked thighs flanking her legs. “Besides, your father is having you watched.”

  She froze, the forceps shaking in her hand. “I didn’t know that,” she said and grabbed another fresh swab.

  “Hmm. Oberon does.”

  Kitt gritted her teeth. She was going to have words wi
th that bear. “Are these wounds all from that Aeternus?”

  He shook his head and looked up at her with those familiar deep blue eyes. “I ran into a couple of bounty hunters, courtesy of your dear old dad. That’s why I came here; it’s the last place they’d expect to look.”

  So, he sought sanctuary—not her.

  Damp locks fell forward as he hung his head, his arms snaking around her waist. “Besides, I really wanted to see you again.”

  Blood rushed to her head, his touch setting a different heavy beat to her heart. If she didn’t get away now, she’d never get out of here.

  Stepping beyond his reach, she turned to tip the alcohol down the sink. “Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll make you something to eat. You need some meat to heal properly.”

  On her way out, she grabbed a couple of fresh towels from the closet beside the bathroom door and sat them on the counter.

  “Thanks, Kitten.”

  There he goes, using that name again. She turned to rebuke him, but he looked so beat up and miserable she just nodded and shut the door.

  Kitt hadn’t been in Dylan’s room since he died. Not once. She took a deep breath and opened the door, feeling like an intruder. Raven needed fresh clothes and hers sure as hell weren’t going to fit him. She grabbed the first things she came across and hurried from the room, dumping the clothes on the back of the sofa before going into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator. There wasn’t much in there; some eggs and a few rashers of bacon, but she had a couple of steaks in the freezer and some bread too.

  She chucked the steaks into the microwave to defrost and put on a pot of coffee, then threw some bacon in a frying pan. Raven would need the protein to replenish his strength. The microwave pinged and she added the still slightly frozen meat to the frying pan.

  “Something smells good.”

  She turned to find him standing in the kitchen doorway, drying his long dark hair and wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Her mouth went dry at the sight. It’d been a while since she’d had any man in her apartment. Actually, it’d been a long while since she’d had a man, full stop. She tried to ignore the way his muscles rippled across his shoulders as he rubbed his hair, and the way his abs flexed and relaxed when he moved.

  The yin- and yang-style double dragon tattoo on his chest drew her gaze, which then led her to look lower, at his well-defined abdominal muscles disappearing beneath the towel hanging low on his hips.

  It was several seconds before she realized he’d stopped, and just stood, watching her with a knowing smile. She dropped her gaze, her cheeks burning.

  “There’s some of Dylan’s clothes on the sofa that should fit you,” she said and turned back to the steaks.

  The meat was ready, seared and warmed through to rare perfection. She placed them on plates with the bacon, eggs, and toast.

  Raven came into the kitchen buttoning the black fitted shirt. “Is there anything I can help with?”

  God, even dressed he looks so damn good. “You can take out the coffee and orange juice.”

  She placed the food on the dining room table as he took his seat and filled the juice glasses. Her appetite deserted her as she sat opposite and glanced across the table at him. Freshly washed hair hung down his back and his fresh male scent spiked her appetite for something other than food, something she hadn’t had in a very long while, and something the felian in her craved. She managed to suppress her inner cat for so long, but Raven just brought back too many memories of wild abandon under nature’s canopy.

  Kitt pushed the eggs around on her plate and sipped at the juice while Raven fell on his food like a man who hadn’t eaten for weeks. Fatigue descended on her again, but the thought of bed raised other images. Images she shouldn’t be picturing. Dangerous images. Her animal lust threatened to overwhelm her, so she picked up her plate and carried it into the kitchen.

  She stood at the sink, scraping the barely touched meal into the trash, when Raven came in. The room suddenly felt smaller than it did a moment before. She could feel his eyes burning a spot between her shoulder blades but didn’t dare turn. It would be her undoing. His breath touched her skin as he came nearer and reached around to put his empty plate on the sink.

  “Here, let me.” His fingers closed over hers and he took the plate from her hands.

  Her fatigue fled. She turned around to look at him. Big mistake. His wide soft mouth was close, very close. She snagged her lower lip with her teeth and pressed herself back against the counter.

  He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “You smell so good.”

  “So do you,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Too good.” Her inner snow leopard growled.

  He placed his hands on the counter, either side of her body, still not touching her. As he leaned in, she leaned away, keeping her eyes locked on his full sensual mouth. Memories of what those lips could do to her sent a flush across her skin.

  His chin brushed the tip of his nose as he planted a kiss between her eyebrows, then he tilted his head to her neck and breathed in deep. When he raised his head again, his eyes were closed, as though he was savoring her scent. Then his lips burned the indentation at the base of her throat. Her head fell back, granting him greater access, and she clutched his shoulders for support.

  Raven pressed one hand on her lower back and the other between her shoulder blades. His hands traveled down to her hips and slid up her sides, dragging over her top. She allowed him to unzip her slacks and untuck her shirt. He pinned her with his hips, and his fingertips trailed down her inner arms, tracing the ridges of her ribs through the thin shirt material. She buried her hands in his hair and crushed his lips to hers. She wanted to breathe him in, to quench her hunger and her felian lust.

  His hands slid inside the trousers to grip her ass; he pulled her against the erection still bridled by his black denim jeans. She groaned and leaned back against the counter, wrapping one leg around him.

  He lifted her onto the counter, grabbed her hips, and again pulled her hard against him. His right hand slid under her shirt and up the furrow between her breasts to wrap around her throat; the tips of his fingers caressed her earlobe and her jawline, sending shivers straight to her groin.

  She ran her palms over his chest and pressed her pelvis against his. The groan that crawled up her throat and escaped through her mouth sounded like someone else’s.

  She needed more of his warm, naked flesh next to hers and reached for the front of his shirt, trembling fingers fumbled to free each button.

  The hard muscles of his abs rippled under her palms before she pushed the shirt off his shoulders and let it slip to the ground. Her hands moved to the top button of his jeans; with no control over her hands, they half unzipped his fly. Raven’s chest stilled, eyes slowly closing as his face tilted toward the ceiling, his long dark hair cascading down his back. His bronzed skin glowed in the morning sunlight streaming through the small kitchen window.

  He looked back at her through hooded eyes, blue eyes, the same eyes she’d seen last night in her children.

  Our children.

  “No,” she said, pushing him away.

  Confusion and hurt replaced the desire in his expression. “Why?”

  “I can’t do this again,” she said. “We can’t—”

  He dropped his head.

  Her newfound resolve and strength crumbled. She stepped toward him. “Raven—”

  The front door rattled with a loud banging.

  Who could it be at this hour? She tucked in her shirt and zipped up her slacks as she crossed to answer it, signaling him to stay in the kitchen. She opened the door, half expecting one of her neighbors and found Oberon on the threshold.

  “Hey,” he said, stepping into the apartment without invitation and holding out a bottle of slightly cloudy pale violet liquid. Atropa wine.

  His head tilted to the side, still his dreadlocks brushed the top of the doorframe. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You’re l
ooking a little flushed.”

  “I . . . I . . .” Her mind worked quickly, trying to think up an excuse.

  “Hello, Oberon,” her ex-lover said from the kitchen doorway, his shirt neatly buttoned.

  The ursian’s fingers curled, forming massive fists; his lips peeled into a snarl. “I thought we’d agreed you’d stay away from here.”

  Chapter 11 - A Clash of Titans

  Oberon took a step forward, looming over her as he moved toward the canian. She pushed back against his chest with her free hand, ready to smash the bottle of potent belladonna moonshine on Oberon’s thick skull if she had to.

  “It was an emergency,” Raven said in a calm tone, as if he wasn’t about to have his head ripped off his shoulders.

  “Oberon, please,” she begged, trying to calm him before the rage took over.

  The ursian strained forward again and said, “Tyrone probably has men watching this apartment right now!”

  Raven propped himself against the kitchen doorframe with his shoulder. “The Tiger Twins are in an SUV across the road; another watches from the apartment in the building opposite, tenth floor.”

  Oberon gently swept her aside and stormed toward the canian, but she inserted herself between them.

  “You done?” Raven asked.

  “Yeah, I’m done.” Oberon unslung the backpack he carried over one shoulder. “Here’s the stuff you asked for. I really wish you’d pick somewhere else though.”

  “You knew?” Kitt said. Unbelievable.

  “I left him a voice message to meet me here,” Raven said, taking the bag. “But, dude—timing.”

  Oberon frowned and looked at Kitt. No matter how hard she tried to stop it, the blush heated her cheeks.

  “Did I interrupt something?” he asked.