More than one man and woman stopped Roslyn and whispered something into her ear. But the vampire smiled and politely declined the invitations. Her hooking days were over, and she wasn’t on the menu anymore. Ah, the joys of management.
After a minute, Roslyn felt me staring at her. Her eyes narrowed, and she shook her head, telling me Carlyle wasn’t here yet. I nudged Finn.
“There’s your girl,” I said over the din of the music. “Go keep her company. When she spots Chuckie C. and shows him to his private room, call me on my cell.”
Finn nodded, already heading in Roslyn’s direction.
“Now what?” Caine asked.
I jerked my head at the bar. “Let’s go get a drink. Might as well make ourselves comfortable while we wait.”
We threaded our way through the mob of people, skirted around the dance floor, and bellied up to the bar. Up close, the Ice sculpture was even more impressive and imbued with so much elemental magic it cast off a faint blue glow. Power trickled off the bartender, like water dripping from a faucet, as he held on to just enough of his magic to keep the bar from melting and in one piece. His control was impressive. My own weaker Ice magic stirred in response.
The bartender placed napkins down on the cold slab in front of us. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a gin on the rocks,” I said.
Donovan Caine raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a little cliché? Gin ordering gin?”
I shrugged. “Maybe, but I like it. You?”
“Give me a Scotch, neat.”
The bartender moved off to fill our orders. Donovan Caine swiveled his seat around so he could look out into the nightclub. I propped my chin on my elbow and studied him. Black hair, golden eyes, lean body. Not a particularly handsome man, in the classical sense, but it all added up to a rough, rugged package I found exceptionally appealing.
Donovan Caine might hate me, hate what I did, hate the ease with which I could kill. But the detective was attracted to me too. Wanted me like I wanted him. I’d seen it in his eyes that first night on the balcony at the opera house. Again in the Cake Walk. Earlier this evening when I’d been eating my yogurt. I glanced at my watch. Not even ten. We probably had a while to wait before Charles Carlyle made an appearance. And I had lots of ideas of how we could pass the time.
The bartender set our drinks in front of us. I slid a fifty across the icy bar to him. Caine tossed back his Scotch. I did the same to my gin. The cold liquor burned going down my throat, somehow transforming itself into sweet, comforting warmth when it hit my stomach.
I pushed my empty glass back across the bar and turned my attention to the detective. My gray eyes drank in the crook in his nose, the curve of his chin, the steady twitch of his pulse in his throat. Donovan felt my gaze, saw the hunger shimmering there. An answering heat sparked in his golden gaze, even as he tried to smother it.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
I tilted my head and smiled. “I think you know.”
“No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?”
My smile widened. “Why don’t I show you instead?”
I leaned over, caught his face in my hands, and pressed my lips to his.
Not the sweetest or most romantic of kisses, but I enjoyed the sensation of the detective’s lips on mine, even if he didn’t. He tasted of the Scotch he’d just downed — hot, spicy, sweet, and salty all at the same time. His aroma filled my nose. Clean, like soap. It clung to him, as though embedded in his skin. Mmm.
I flicked my tongue against his lips. Caine stiffened. He didn’t pull away, but he kept his mouth closed and his tongue inside. A shame, really.
“Come on, detective,” I murmured against his tight lips. “Everybody else here is doing it. Why shouldn’t we?”
“Do I really have to list the reasons?” he growled.
“No,” I replied. “But I have just as many why we should. This is one of them.”
I slid over onto his lap. Even though I’d given him no warning and very little to turn him on, Donovan’s erection pressed into my ass, solid and straining. I kissed him again, lightly pressing my lips to his, then shifted my legs so I was straddling him. I rocked forward, then retreated, rubbing against his body, pressing my breasts to his chest, exploring this attraction that simmered between us. Mmm.
Donovan’s hands clenched into fists on either side of me. All he could do to keep from touching me.
“Come on, detective,” I murmured. “You want me, too. I’m sitting on ample proof of that. After this is over, we’ll go our separate ways. I’ve almost been killed too many times to count this week. So have you. Why shouldn’t we work off some of that stress and have a little fun in the meantime?”
Donovan stared at me. Desire warmed his eyes, making them shine like twin suns. Still, he hesitated. I shifted my hips again, urging him on. The slight friction pushed him over the edge. The detective let out a low growl, wound his hand in my hair, and pulled my lips down to his.
There were no closed mouths this time. No light touches or hesitation. Our tongues thrashed against each other, driving deeper and deeper into each other’s mouth. I splayed my hands on his chest, kneading his lean muscles, marveling at his coiled strength. He pulled me closer. His hands moved up to my breasts. I scraped my nails down his stomach. We both rocked, teasing the other with what we each had to offer.
After ten seconds, I was wet. After thirty, I ached for him. By the minute mark, I was ready to rip his jeans off and pull him down under the bar with me. But I wanted to be alone with Donovan Caine, wanted to forget about everything but him and how he made me feel.
“They have rooms upstairs,” I whispered against his mouth.
More emotions flashed in his eyes. Desire. Guilt. Hesitation. Need.
Slowly, he nodded.
I grinned and leaned forward to kiss him again when I felt an odd, pulsing buzz on my leg. It took me a few seconds to figure out what it was.
My cell phone vibrating.
20
Finn was calling, which meant our prey for the evening had arrived. Damn and double damn Charles Carlyle. Because no matter how much I wanted Donovan Caine, no matter how much he wanted me, tracking the vampire came first. Finding out who his Air elemental boss was came first.
Avenging Fletcher came first.
I sighed. “Sorry, detective. Duty calls.”
“I know,” Donovan said in a husky voice. “I can feel your phone vibrating against my thigh.”
Our gazes locked. Desire still brightened the detective’s eyes, along with something else — relief. I wondered at the emotion. Relief about what? That he wouldn’t betray his dead partner by fucking me? That his morals would remain intact for another night? Or that he wouldn’t discover how good it would be between us and hunger for more?
My phone kept vibrating. I slid off the detective’s lap, pulled the cell out of my jeans pocket, and flipped it open.
“What is it, Finn?”
“Carlyle just walked in the front door, in case you were wondering,” Finn said in a wry voice. “Or would you rather keep dry humping the good detective?”
My gaze cut to the front of the club. It took me a few seconds to pick out Charles Carlyle, aka Chuckie C., from the rest of the crowd. But once I did, it was easy enough to track him. The short, stocky vampire sported a black suit with wide, white pinstripes and white wingtips. The black lights spread throughout the club made the stripes and shoes glow a bright fluorescent. Better than GPS. A black fedora covered Carlyle’s bald spot. He also had two other accessories — a girl on either arm. The women sported the heart-and-arrow rune necklace of the club’s workers. Chuckie C. was starting his tab off early.