Wild Thing by Meljean Brook

Author:Meljean Brook [Brook, Meljean]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-12-11T08:13:50+00:00

Chapter Seven

Jesus Christ. A limp dick and a lame joke. As he parked the jeep near Pierre's apartment, Lucas tried to decide which had been worse. He wasn't even certain if he could blame it on the animal blood.

Erectile dysfunction, yes. But inanity?

It must have been her mouth. Or the brief vulnerability she'd shown him. Seven demons against two Guardians, but she'd gone because she'd had to. Because of duty.

And he'd found his attraction instantly deepening into something beyond physical, into admiration and an unexpected kinship. Selfdisgust followed it, that she'd had to force him into accepting the same. Concern, that whatever fear she'd had would be realized and she wouldn't return.

So he was twisted up, once again. But without shame, without guilt. He didn't think he wanted to be straightened out just yet. Marguerite waited for him on the sidewalk, her portfolio case in one hand, a mound of flowers tucked beneath her chin. Lucas automatically took both from her, though their weight was negligible to any vampire.

"Ah, chivalry isn't dead. Not five minutes ago, I despaired every man but Pierre had driven a stake through its gallant heart."

Roses. Not his favorite—too sweet and cloying. He drew in a breath through his mouth and followed her up the stairs. Pierre and Marguerite leased the second floor of the Parisian-inspired building. A wrought-iron balcony overlooked the street; a human couple window-shopped in front of the art gallery on the first level.

"What occurred five minutes ago?"

She paused in front of the door. A knot of gray hair pulled at the corners of her eyes; clothed in unrelenting black, she looked as severe and thin as a nightstick. "Victor closed the gallery, interrupting Julianne and me, just as she began relating the most fascinating bit of gossip I've heard in ages. I was distraught, until I looked out the window and saw the subject of our little tête-à-tête."

Lucas wasn't surprised. There were a lot of eyes in Ashland; many of them had excellent night vision. "The evening has cooled nicely, hasn't it? I saw that it was a record high today."

"Cheeky vampire. Don't smile like that. You'll frighten the children."

Once inside, frigid air surrounded him, the hum of air-conditioning units. Aside from that modern convenience, it was like stepping into a luxurious Old World salon. They'd spared no expense on their collection of furniture and art—and they'd had more than a century to collect them.

"Lucas. Pardon me, Scott." His dark hair shining beneath the lamp, Pierre rose from the ivory-inlaid game table in the corner of the room. The young male vampire nodded, his gaze fixing on Marguerite for a long moment before he returned his attention to the chess set in front of him.

Lucas suppressed his amusement. Scott was one of Marguerite's "children," but the latent sexual hunger coming from the vampire wasn't remotely familial. He'd buried it, hidden it well; Lucas doubted that either Marguerite or Pierre were aware of the kid's interest.

Or Scott's partner, Andrea. Though Lucas thought even if Andrea had known, she probably wouldn't have cared.

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