Finishing the waltz with a spry-footed older woman dressed in violet chiffon, Ivan then bowed and led her off the dance floor to the waiting gaggle of hens. The entire crew giggled as he kissed her hand and begged off.
They were everywhere, the old ladies. Made him smile. He hadn't had such a good time in, well, seven years, to be sure.
With a threat of rain increasing the humidity in the air, the band immediately started to dismantle.
Just as well. A prickle at the back of Ivan's neck warned he had better get more serious about his task.
The coercion would never force him to do anything he wouldn't normally do. It wouldn't make him vamp out on a crowd of citizens. He could control his bloodlust. But it could make him brisk, focused and uncaring for anything that did not serve his ultimate goal.
Which was why he'd refused Elise another dance. He was beginning to wish her home and tucked safely in her bed, and that the park was empty. Save he and Dez.
"You're making quite the impression," Dez said, as he joined her side at the edge of the dance floor.
"I am enjoying myself." "You say that as if it's new to you."
"It is. Trust me, I'm still waiting for the wallop." A wistful smirk pulled his lips. The intensity of Dez's blood stretched beyond the mixture of floral aromas, and the humid air stirred it to a heady perfume inside his brain. His fangs tingled. Sinking them into her neck would be like stabbing a tooth into an apricot's flesh, juicy and sweet and dripping with deliciousness.
"I'm sorry to have left you alone for so long," he rushed out. "It was rude."
"On the contrary, I enjoyed watching you sweep those women off their feet much more than I would have cared to dance myself."
"We'll have our dance."
He clasped her hand. Sensing her initial need to pull away, he didn't hold tight, and was rewarded with a relaxed acceptance.
See, he could work with the coercion. It just took focus.
But his fangs were not listening to a mental command to retreat. They pricked the inside of his lower lip, wanting luscious fruit oozing over his tongue.
"What's that?" Ivan scanned the sky.
"The midnight bells." Dez pointed to the church half a mile down the main street. A flaking white spire jutted into the dark sky.
"Willow Cove rings them every night and noon."
"Bet the townspeople love that."
"It's tradition. It gives me comfort. You know bells keep back the devil."
"Do they?"
Looking beyond her to the glint of moonlight on the sea, he inhaled the salted air. It was enough to clear his head of her gorgeous scent. His fangs rose in their sockets. "Tell me one thing. If I were not a fixer after your book, would you find me attractive?"
She didn't even blink. "Yes."
Points for him! Obvious, because she hadn't tried to drown him or sweep him away in a tsunami. Yet. The night was young.
So the woman liked him. And he liked her. Which should cause him grief, knowing this was a job, but right now he wanted to ride the good feeling. Anything to keep back the insistent craving to gorge on her blood as if at a bacchanalian feast.
But he couldn't be obvious. There were diabolic forces that sensed his emotions and punished brutally should he veer from the task.
"Now that you mention my book..." she said.
He traced one dangling curl that touched her shoulder. A frenzy of browns and gold and even some red streaked through the strands.
"You don't even know what it is you're after, do you?"
"A grimoire. All you witches have them."
"'You witches'? Don't you have a grimoire?"
"My mother does somewhere. I've never felt the need to write down spells. My memory is quite good." "You're not the least humble, are you?"
"Humility is for the weak. I can't afford weakness."
He leaned in, not so close she might flinch away, but near enough to her pale cheek to draw in the scent that sat above her skin, not below it. "What is that perfume you're wearing?"
"I never wear perfume."
"Liar. I can smell numerous scents whenever you are near. Must be from your shop, eh? I can pick out lavender and vanilla, and maybe clove. Difficult to avoid the apricot."
"Apricot? I never use-"
"The scent of your blood. It tastes marvelous."
When her palm pressed against his chest, Ivan wished his skin bared so she could feel his pounding heart. Yet even with the barrier of clothing, he felt her pulse. And behind the beat gushed the rich, sweet blood he'd tasted last night.
And his fangs descended again. He tilted his head, so she could not see him directly as he spoke.
"All blood smells different, from person to person. Some tastes metallic, others like meat or even dust. A rare few taste of herbs or flowers, or...fruit. A person's blood is infused with who they are, what they eat, what they desire, their passions."
She shoved him away. "It was just a drop. You can't possibly remember the taste."
"I'll never forget it."
Fighting the coercion was becoming more of a challenge-and the need to fight it dropped.
One hand wrapped about her neck. For the first time, Ivan saw she wasn't so bold. Good. A weakness. She wanted to know his bite, whether she realized that or not.
"I'm not going to vamp out and bite you in front of the townspeople, if that's what you think."
"Good, because I have a firm rule about no biting. Absolutely. No. Biting."
Like a hit to the groin, her rule stopped the craving for a bite. Ivan's fangs slipped away. "I'll remember that."
"Now about the book. The grimoire," she insisted, "is the Grande Grimoire. And again, you have no idea what you're after."
"Grand things, obviously." Nope, couldn't get the taste of her from his palate. "Grand things like...a kiss. Just one?"
He touched the porcelain line of her jaw, tilting her gaze up to his. A bit of defiance had returned, but softer, more open.
"I am beguiled by your scent and wanting to touch more than I dare."
"Sounds like the means to seduction. And isn't that what you intend? To seduce the book from my protection? If you bit me, you could persuade me to give it to you." A tilt of her shoulder shifted the red silk. Her small breasts rose in delicious mounds. "Am I right?"
Ivan licked his lips. "Eerily right."
She moved a step closer. A fine mist began to sprinkle their heads. All around them, people began to scatter."But as I told you from the start, I'll only give you the truth of me. You will know my intentions always. I don't want to scare you away."
"I should hope not, if you wish to be successful. But don't worry, I don't scare easily."
"I've noticed." He cocked a look skyward. Raindrops splattered his forehead. "Did you do that?"
"Not me," she said, and moved even closer.
A smirk tugged the corner of her mouth into an inverted comma. Ivan had to touch her. But he wasn't able to capture the curve of her expression, only stroke his finger along the finest flesh he'd ever known.
Now the rain began to fall with increasing intensity.
"You want to find cover?"
"I'm fine. You make a great umbrella." She traced a finger up the line of buttons on his confining dress shirt. And he felt every touch as a hot pulse, as if it were skin on skin.
Nothing could make him break contact with her now. Come lightning or tornado-even wild roses-he'd stand firm.
"Everyone is leaving," she said.
"Can I get that dance now?"
"You're very bad, Ivan." And she spread her arms up around his neck. "But I've never been particularly good myself."
Now this offer he could definitely get behind.
Drawing his hand down her back, his fingers dipped into her curves, gliding, lingering, imprinting. Ivan moaned, but the sound got lost in the thunder and rain. Soaked thoroughly, the weather did not dissuade his explorations. The red silk Dez wore was so wet he could trace the curve of her hip and the soft indents above her derriere through the thin fabric.
Let his fangs come out to play. He needed. He wanted.
But he wouldn't press his luck. Not yet.
They swayed there in the rain. The red-and-black-striped awning over the bar snapped shut with a clack. Band members shouted as they shuffled to load their instruments into the back of a waiting van. And at the periphery of his vision, Ivan saw a huddle of old ladies, observing from beneath the umbrella put up before the ice cream shop across the street.
"We've an audience," he said.
Dez sighed against his chest, and from that moment on, Ivan didn't care who watched. Even Himself. Sure, he had a task to complete. And he would do it without fail.
But just because he was focused on obtaining some book didn't mean he couldn't dance with a gorgeous witch in the pouring rain.
There were certain things a witch never did.
She avoided fire like the plague because that was her one bane.She never cast a harmful spell unless she was fully prepared to accept the karmic counterattack the universe would slam back at her.
And she never consorted with a vampire-whether indifferent to his species or not.
Those had been Dez's rules for a lifetime. They'd gotten her through a lot. Though certainly she had broken the first two at some point-and had learned from it.
It was inevitable she would break the third.
Over her vast lifetime, Dez had collected a few regrets. But with each regret came a powerful lesson. So she plunged into this moment without looking over her shoulder or wondering what the hell she was doing. She was living. Simple as that.
The top of her head leveled at Ivan's shoulder. He was twice as wide as she and a behemoth to her petite form. It felt good, melting against his hard body, her rain-slickened clothing crushed up against his, and feeling his own warmth permeate the wetness.
She sized him up, finding he was lacking in no departments. Muscles. Check. Confidence. Check. A healthy bit of arrogance.
Check. Charm to counteract the deceit. Check. And style to match a powerful knowledge of witchcraft.
No wonder Himself had chosen this one.
Crushing her hips against her dance partner put his erection at the apex of her mons. The solid hardness of him stirred thoughts of utter privacy, gasping moans and sweating bodies.
As if he were thinking parallel thoughts, Ivan drew her closer, tighter, until Dez thought she might become a part of him.
The embrace dizzied her. All her desire buttons had been switched on and now they rocketed to the top of the scale. Fingers digging into the wet fabric over his chest, she sighed, knowing he couldn't hear for the increasing rain.
All right, Dez, enough. Don't forget he could prove your death.
And she had meant it about the no biting. That was one rule she wasn't willing to stretch, twist or break. Never.
With a wistful last snug of her stomach against his hardness, Dez stepped back, extricating herself with some difficulty from his grasp, but he relented.
"Thanks for tricks," she forced herself to say.
Then she turned and walked away. It was the longest walk she had ever taken. Feeling Ivan Drake's stare follow her to her car parked halfway down the block, Dez cautioned her steps so she wouldn't topple and bring him rushing to her side.
Because if he touched her again tonight, she wouldn't stop saying yes until morning.
Uploaded by Coral
Chapter 6.
I van woke at 3:00 a.m. to the cell phone ringing. It was his mother's secretary. A Gray Council meeting was scheduled for this morning at nine. The private jet would be waiting at the Portland airport to whisk him away to Minneapolis.