CheckMate Page 14

  * * * *

  The Law didn't formally require it, but most clubs and bars had adopted the practice. Mirror panels on the ceiling were unobtrusive, yet they allowed the patrons to know, with no more than a quick glance up, if the person dancing with them was human or vampire. Most people didn't leave the dance floor if the mirror showed them dancing alone, but they usually were more cautious once the song had ended. Vampires sometimes complained that it was discrimination; club owners shrugged it off by pointing out that it wasn't their fault that vampires had no reflection.

  The club Vincent was in, however, prided itself on the total absence of mirrors on its premises. It was common knowledge that the human owner of On The Edge lived with two vampires, and anyone on the dance floor was as likely to be human as to be a vamp. Most humans who were there proudly displayed bite marks and often were in search of a vamp to spend the night with, but not all vampires were of a play-oriented mind. Recently, several drained bodies had been found about two blocks from the club—not too close, the vampires didn't want to lose such a prime hunting ground.

  The club consisted of two levels. On the ground floor, a bar occupied the central space while tables, chairs and sofas were scattered around the room, offering spaces to talk, or a little more than talk in the barely lit alcoves. On the lower level, the music pounded loud enough to drown out any attempt at conversation. It was a space to dance and seduce with body language and looks, nothing more. Linking the two levels, a set of staircases and suspended bridges gave the impression that the two separated spaces were one and the same, which, maybe, they were.

  It was on one of these bridges that Vincent stood, leaning against the railing and watching the scene under him. It wasn't easy figuring out who was human and who was a vamp in such a moving, throbbing crowd, but Vincent had learned over the years to read bodies pretty well. However confident humans were, there was always something, in their gestures, in the way they looked at other people, in the way they moved in relation to others, that gave them away. They were creatures of a society that frowned mildly upon those who associated with vampires too closely, and the thrill of the taboo was there, just underneath their skin. In contrast, vampires always looked like what they were at the core. Hunters. No human Casanova could ever achieve the stride or hungry look of a vampire on the prowl.

  His contact at the police department had suggested, the last time he had been there, that Vincent check the club out and try to find out which vampire or vampires were responsible for the kills. Another Special Enforcer was on the case, but he apparently wasn't having much luck.

  Vincent didn't like to step on other people's toes, and that was why he hadn't come to the club so far. Simple professional courtesy, and absolutely nothing to do with not wanting to take Lilia where another Enforcer might recognize what she was and wonder why Vincent worked with her. No, nothing to do with that at all.

  Vincent had been keeping an eye on a couple of vamps that gave off dangerous vibes when he first caught sight of her. At first, he was sure he had just imagined it; his thoughts had been drifting toward her, which wasn't unusual. His mind must have conjured her image.

  Then he saw her again, and this time there was no denying that it was Lilia. She was in the middle of the dance floor, squirming close enough to a male body that they couldn't have gotten any closer to each other without getting rid of their clothes first.

  Vincent's mind went blank as he watched her and vainly tried to understand what was going on. When she had said she had errands to run, he never imagined this was what she meant.

  His grip tightened on the railing when he saw the guy take her hand and lead her to one of the staircases almost directly opposite where Vincent stood. She followed and smiled. Vincent lost sight of her as they were stepping onto the first level floor, and he hurried there himself, but he couldn't find them in the club, nor did he see them when he rushed out in the street.

  The numbness was overwhelming; he had been trying to summon the courage to tell her what he felt for her, and it turned out that all the while she had played with him, with his emotions. And now it was over.

  Chapter 16

  Vincent looked mildly surprised when Lilia turned up on his doorstep, half an hour after sunset. She didn't understand why, she usually came to him at the same time. She tried to ask him what was wrong, but he denied that anything was going on and walked out of the house, closing the door behind him with a bang and an angry jerk of his key.

  A little perplexed, she followed him as he strode off without waiting for her, wondering what he wasn't telling. She couldn't remember seeing him in such a bad mood before. He refused to say a word however as they started hunting; after a moment, she fell as quiet. Maybe he had had a rough day and needed to let out some tension. She would ask again once he had calmed down. She certainly could understand the feeling; she had been in his place often enough lately.

  Her discovery of the previous night had left her however with a strange peace of mind. She had tried fighting off what she felt for Vincent, tried finding the same pleasure in another's arms, but had been unable to go through with it. It had angered her tremendously at the time, but after a few hours of ranting and creative redecoration of the mausoleum, she had finally calmed down enough to accept that there was nothing she could do. It wasn't just the Mating claim, as she had tried to convince herself, that attracted her to Vincent. It was him. His very being. What he did, what he said, the way he fought, and the way he made love to her. Or fucked her. Whichever it was.

  And if he wanted to pretend to himself that she was human ... well, that didn't change who or what she was, and he was deluding no one but himself. In time, maybe, he would come to accept that she was a vampire and nothing he did could change that.

  "Vincent? How about you stake that poor thing and we move on?"

  He threw a glance at her before following her advice, but the look was so brief that she didn't manage to read his mood through it. The way he had been pummeling that vampire, however, using fists and feet rather than his stake, gave her a good idea of how bad his temper still was. She only wished she knew what had upset him so.

  "Did something happen?” she asked, unable to refrain from asking anymore.

  "Something like what?” he replied, his voice tense.

  "If I knew, I wouldn't ask."

  "If you knew,” he repeated, and the snarl in his voice felt like venom, but he didn't say anything more. And Lilia got tired of it.

  "OK, I've had enough, I'm going home. When you've gotten whatever it is out of your system, you know where to find me."

  They had been patrolling in one of the town's graveyard when she left him. By the time she had reached the street, she could tell that he was following her. She slowed her step, hoping that he would catch up with her and start to explain himself, but he remained at a distance behind her. She had half a mind to go on her own hunt, or simply walk around town to see how long he would remain trailing behind her, but she wasn't really in the mood for games, not after her attempts of the previous night at fooling herself. She knew what would happen once they reached her mausoleum. She didn't have a problem with it.

  What she hadn't expected however was Vincent's attitude when he finally passed the invisible threshold to her bedroom and found her waiting two steps inside. He was on her immediately, pushing her backwards until she was trapped between the wall and him, his hands roughly cupping her face as he pressed his mouth to hers in a hard kiss that was anything but subtle. His tongue thrust past her lips and their teeth clashed.

  All Lilia could think as he gave the impression of wanting to devour her, claim her, was she didn't mind so much anymore that he had been upset if this was the result. She enjoyed their slow make-out sessions, no doubt there, but there was something about a good, hard fuck that she had missed recently.

  Pushing him back to break off the kiss, she leered at him.

  "Think we're going to make it to the bed?"

  His answer w
as to lunge at her again and kiss her even more fiercely, but this time his hands flew straight to the fastenings of her pants and within seconds he was pealing the leather off her and struggling to push it down. Not wanting to lose any time, she reached for his own zipper but this time he stopped the kiss and stepped back.

  "Take them off,” he demanded, gesturing at her pants, caught around her knees.

  He was rarely so assertive and a silent thrill ran through Lilia as she obeyed. She didn't mind running the show, but following could be fun, too. She kicked off the boots in two seconds each, then her leather pants too, but Vincent still managed to be ready before her—truthfully, all he did was unzip his pants and push them and his boxers down.

  With barely a snap of his wrist, her panties were gone, now a useless scrap of lace, but before she could protest he took hold of her arm and made her face the wall. His hand at her back pressed forward and down until she was supporting herself with both hands on the wall and his foot nudged hers apart. He barely ran a finger against her slit before his cock was there, pushing in as forcefully as she had expected it.

  She took the sharp, forceful thrusts in stride, and pushed back against him as much as she could until his hands tightened on her hips in a silent request that she stilled. His fingers held her so tight, she could tell already she would have bruises by the time they were done, and it only made her want more. For the first time, he was touching her like what she was—a demon. And she loved every second of it.

  He didn't make a sound as he continued to pound into her, but she allowed the gasps and cries to escape her throat; keeping them in would have been too hard. The only warning she had before she felt him come was his fingernails digging into the flesh of her hips, and the pinpricks of pain overloaded her body with sensation, making her lose herself in her orgasm as he was losing himself in her.

  Lilia wasn't quite sure how she ended up—finally—on the bed. She wasn't too sure either what the hell was going on with Vincent for him to be ready for more so soon, and pushing her legs up. He was usually more of a cuddler.

  But she definitely wasn't going to complain now.

  * * * *

  His second climax left Vincent as unsatisfied as the first had, and when Lilia rolled to her side with a sigh and started sliding an arm over his body, he sat up and reached for his jacket on the ground, pulling out his cigarettes and lighter and dislodging her abruptly.

  "So,” he said as he was lighting one, “shall I go home so you can go find a replacement to finish the night?"

  He inhaled and held the smoke in a little longer than usual, letting it burn just as Lilia's lies did. She opened an eye and looked up at him, seemingly half-asleep.

  "Hmm?"

  He didn't buy the sleepiness, nor did he believe that she didn't know what he was talking about. If she wanted to play that game however, he was ready. The sneer on his lips would hide the pain. Or so he hoped.

  "I mean, if I'm that bad, you could at least give me a clue. Help me improve. I'm not that proud that I won't take advice in bed."

  This time, she sat up, frowning, pulling the sheet with her to remain covered, and somehow the gesture felt like one more piece of proof to Vincent. She had never been shy of her body before, so why would she be now? And what else was she hiding from him?

  "What in hell are you yammering about, Jordan?"

  He had gotten used to her switching to his last name when she was annoyed with him, but at the moment, it irritated him beyond all reason.

  "Oh, it's Jordan again, is it?” he shot back as he scrambled off the bed and, flicking the cigarette to the floor, started gathering the clothes he had discarded earlier. “I guess I should have seen it coming. I have to admit, you had me fooled with your declarations of love and all that. Although I don't see what you were trying to accomplish by making me believe..."

  He had managed to fight his way into his jeans when she stood and caught his wrist, stilling him as he was struggling to button them with hands shaking from anger.

  "Will you stop for a minute and tell me what you're talking about?"

  He could almost believe the puzzlement on her features, and he hated her for being able to manipulate him so easily—and hated himself even more for not having managed to see through her act until now.

  "I'm talking about last night, Lilia. You went off saying you had errands to run and then what did you do?"

  At last, slow comprehension appeared on her face, and she let go of her hold on his wrist. He took advantage of that to grab the t-shirt at his feet and pull it on over his head.

  "You spied on me?” she asked, her voice like ice.

  He wanted to deny it, wanted to confess that he had trusted her, before she had thrown his trust straight back into his face, but the need to hear her admit what she had done was stronger.

  "What did you do, Lilia?” he repeated, standing still now but ready for the blow of her words.

  She shook her head, eyes wide and outraged, as though he were the guilty party instead of her.

  "I can't believe you fucking spied on me!"

  Something snapped in Vincent at hearing her turn the tables on him, and he was practically shouting when he answered.

  "And I can't believe you fuck people on the side! Guess that's two of us surprised, here!"

  If anything, her eyes widened even more, pupils dilated in anger but no words passing her parted lips even when they moved.

  "What, no explanation?” he mocked. “No witty come back? I'm disappointed, Lilia. That's not like you. But then maybe your acts are more truthful than your words."

  All emotions deserted both her face and voice. “Get out."

  It still wasn't enough. Hurt as he was, Vincent wanted at least an admission that she was the one at fault. He glared at her, standing at all his height in front of her so that she had to look up. “Not happy that I found out, are you?"

  "There was nothing to find out, Jordan."

  Still she refused to come clean. What would it take her to admit defeat?

  "You lied to me!” he spat. “You cheated—"

  "I did not!” she cut in, standing her ground in front of him and returning his glare. “And in any case, we'd need to be in a relationship for me to be able to cheat on you. And we don't have that, do we?"

  The bitterness in her tone, he attributed to her annoyance at having been unmasked. She wasn't going to say she was sorry, he realized, nor would she even own up to her guilt. Disgusted, he turned his back on her, picking up his boots, shirt, and coat. He had to look back one more time, though.

  "You're playing with words, Lilia. But you're done playing with me."

  Arms crossed over her naked chest, she practically growled. “Get out of here."

  * * * *

  Vincent walked away, back stiff and looking very much as though he were the wronged one, and Lilia glared at him until he had disappeared.

  She had never imagined he would follow her and spy on her, not when he had made such a point of demonstrating he trusted her. That only proved that it must have been a show, and nothing more. She had to admit he was a good actor.

  If she had known this would be the result, she would have tried harder to fuck someone; at least, Vincent would have had a cause for being so mad.

  Rambling to herself about what an idiot he was, she threw on some clothes, determined to go after him and tell him exactly what she had been doing in that club, and how spying on her had destroyed any hope they might have had. That didn't make much sense, she realized to some extent, but she couldn't let him just walk away from her like that. Even if she had told him to go away.

  She was practically at the door when she stopped in her tracks; she ran back to the bedroom and snatched the earrings from the plain cardboard box under the bed where she kept them. She couldn't have explained the gesture; she just wanted the damn things with her and put them on while cursing Vincent in several languages. Finally ready, she strode out of the mausoleum with the hurried pace of
someone whose anger is overwhelming.

  Maybe because of the anger, maybe because she was muttering and rambling against Vincent as though he had been in front of her already, she didn't notice the group of vampires until it surrounded her. Alexei was leading them, and he smiled at her a little sadly.

  "It will be easier on you if you come along of your own will, Lilia. He might even consider it as a step in the right direction when he decides on your punishment."

  She rolled her eyes at him. There was no need to ask about whom he was speaking. “You forget I've known him longer than you have. If he sent you to get me, he's already pissed off beyond words."

  Alexei shrugged, the smile vanishing. “Yeah, that describes him pretty well. I don't envy you right now."

  She realized, too late, that her rage had blinded her and he had only been distracting her. As he finished talking, a net was thrown over her to impede her movements; seconds later, two heavy ropes were bound around her, one at her chest and waist, trapping her hands, the other around her legs. She fell to the ground and cursed profusely as they picked her up like a bag of laundry to take her away.

  To take her to Nathanael.

  Chapter 17

  The night was cool, and Vincent crossed his arms over his chest to keep his jacket closed. Cool and quiet, too. Not a single vamp so far, unfriendly or otherwise; he was getting bored. Still, the idea of going home never crossed his mind. He had a job to do, people to save, and quite honestly, an itch to thrust that damn stake into a vampire's chest and release some of his pent-up tension. The grain of the wood was smooth in his hand, polished by many nights like this one, where he had held on to the stake as though it was a safe line. It had kept him safe, quite a few times, so maybe it was just that. What it didn't do, however, was prevent him from thinking about her.

  He missed Lilia.