Buried Passion Page 5

  Shaky hands trembled over her mouth. I don’t want to live like this, killing to survive.

  “Argh.” A pounding started in her head. She clutched her hair, shut her eyes, and greeted a rainbow of lights. Dizzy beyond her control, she sagged against the wall.

  Rachel leaned into the leather, inhaled the alpine polish. The rich fragrance eased her, giving her the semblance of home, of safety.

  Propped against the side of the car, her father filled the tank. Dark hair combed to one side, forest green eyes twinkling in the sun. “Are you smelling the leather again, Princess?” The taunt brought on his wide grin, revealing a set of pearly whites.

  The ’65 Cadillac deVille Coupe was the star attraction at the annual car show. Immaculate, glossy and upgraded often, no wonder so many admired the classic vehicle. Strangers approached them throughout day to compliment Sueanna…the car.

  The driver door clicked shut when her father hopped in. He tossed her the cherry chocolate bar. “Your favorite.”

  “Thanks dad.” She tore the package open with great gusto.

  “Don’t get any crumbs on Sueanna.”

  “I won’t,” she mumbled between bites, savoring the sweetness of cherries, coconut and dark chocolate. Sueanna vibrated to life with the start of the engine as Rachel devoured the last bite.

  A few dollars followed by a worn wallet dropped in her lap. “Do us a favor, put the change in the zipper compartment.”

  She opened the brown leather and stared down at his drivers license. The photo reminded her of a mugshot. Rachel chortled aloud. “You’re so not photogenic.”

  “Hey, be nice.”

  She chuckled again.

  He drove onto the highway. “I hope we continue to do this every year.”

  “We will.”

  “When you’re older, you might find this boring. You’ll be into more girly things…and boys.”

  Rachel stared out the window, at the blue sky, the open fields and fruit trees in full bloom. She would never trade this for anything. Besides, the boys at school were so disgusting with their silly dares and antics. “Boys are gross and stupid.”

  “You say that now. I doubt you’ll think the same when you’re a teenager.”

  “I promise, dad. This will be our tradition.”

  The proud glint in his eyes matched his smile. “Good, because I love spending time with my little princess.”

  “And I love spending time with my king.”

  “While we’re on the subject of The King…” He beamed and wiggled his brows. About to click his fingers to play the one track allowed in the player, she halted him.

  “Let me try.”

  “Have you been practising?”

  She flexed her fingers and grinned. “Every day this week. I’ve aced it.”

  “Go on then.”

  With the snap of her fingers, the rich timbre of Elvis’s voice drifted through the speakers.

  “Woohoo, that’s my girl,” he said in his best impersonation of the King of Rock.

  “Listen Dad, it’s your favorite too.”

  Chest puffed out, a crooked smile curved her father’s mouth. He ruffled her hair, then planted a chaste kiss to her forehead.

  Head rested on her dad’s shoulder, they sang along to Elvis Presley’s, Don’t Cry Daddy.

  ****

  Rachel blinked from the flashback. Laid across the floor, warm wetness ran over her lip. She dabbed at the fresh blood with the towel Ian gave her earlier. Odd, how this kept happening. But her father…he seemed so loving. They had to have had a close relationship. Her heart soared. And she’d eaten chocolate? So, she obviously didn’t always live on blood. What a weird stereo though. For sure the car possessed a sensor audio system activated by certain sounds.

  Earlier, when the headache occurred, she encountered another flashback. Was that also a memory or a hallucination? Everything about it seemed real; the exuberance, the nerves, the rich essence of grass and fresh bark. She had a life once. Good or bad, who knew? But she did have a past. What if it was a life worth fighting for? Details of her father in the last vision were also prominent, not surreal at all. If she focussed, reminisced on her father’s license, perhaps she might recall a name. The memory replayed step by step, and she concentrated on the ID.

  Phillip Warren Johnson.

  A smile stretched her lips.

  Ian stormed in with a plastic bag and used it as a glove to scoop the dead rabbit. Jaw clenched, he peered down. “Well, leech, it’s your lucky day. Some friends from my pack are bringing blood bags from a local hospital.” His upper lip twitched. “That should satisfy your hunger.”

  Heat scorched her cheeks at the sneer stamped on his face. He should have killed her when he had the chance. She stilled. Why hadn’t he? After all, she had encouraged him. What a horrible mistake that would have been. Vampire or not, she had a life out there, a father and most likely a family who cared about her. Now wasn’t the time to give up, but to keep going. The blood bags might suffice, but staring at Ian’s neck, she swallowed and ignored temptation. “Great,” she said with forced enthusiasm. “More of you to give me grief. I can’t imagine a better way to spend my morning.”

  With the smart-mouth remark ignored, he called over his shoulder, “they won’t arrive for another few hours, so I’m heading in for a shower.”

  Hours? The bathroom door shut, followed by the click of a lock. Throat burning, her stomach grumbled. What could she drink in the meantime? On her feet, she rushed to the en-suite and rapped on the door. She had to be out of her mind. Ian couldn’t care less if she starved. The wood swung open as she struggled to conjure an excuse for disturbing him. Her belly fluttered at the sight of his shirtless form.

  Steam gusted out from the shower stall, giving the background a hazy hypnagogic ambience. Dark skin revealed healthy smoothness. She tingled all over. No wonder she craved to sink her teeth into him. And did every werewolf own a magnificent frame or did Ian workout? With an abdomen tough as stone, Caesar haircut and permanent scowl, he resembled a brutal warlord ready to strike.

  Lemon and spearmint wavered over her. She fought back the urge to inhale greedy breaths. Did she want to drink from him or run her tongue over his strong physique? Her mind boggled, compartmentalising him between food and sex. “Wow, I guessed you sported something good beneath the clothes, but I never expected it to be this damn good.” Oh crap. She’d said that out loud.

  His scowl deepened, but a spark flashed in his eyes. Earlier, when he gazed at her, she thought she mistook the fervent mien, but now was sure. It wasn’t just in his eyes, his scent heightened, mixed with a sweet saltiness. It was lust.

  She cleared her thirsty throat. Oh, that’s right. She needed blood…like yesterday. No point asking Wolfy. She’d be better off hunting another rabbit. “You don’t like me.” Talk about stating the obvious, but she needed a diversion from the real reason for knocking on his door.

  Ian’s frown remained. “You’re right, I don’t.”

  “Because we’re natural enemies?” Why bother helping her? Why not leave her on the street?

  He spared the shower a glance. Hands fisted in the waistband of his jeans, he yanked them off a pair of muscled legs. The pale gray boxer briefs a sharp contrast against his dark skin. And the thick, long outline of his manhood a clear indication of his well endowed size. Okay, what did she ask again?

  Ian withdrew her hand from the door. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  Hot body or not, she wouldn’t allow a self-righteous werewolf to treat her this way. Foot pressed against the frame, she narrowed her eyes. “Once nightfall arrives, I’m out of here.”

  His hand dropped from the handle. “And where will you go?”

  Not to give anything away, she arched a brow. Her plans were none of his business. “I’ll be out of your hair, and you’ll no longer need to trouble yourself because of me, Wolfy.”

  Rough hands clutched her shoulders and squeezed. Fierce eyes bore into hers. Air cau
ght in her throat. Déjà vu, she swore she’d seen this furious side of him once before, but when, where? A chill swept over her body. Breathe, dammit breathe.

  “You’re staying here, vampire. I will not let you wander the area, attacking more innocents.”

  Innocents? He acted as if she harmed upstanding citizens. Those biker men from earlier assaulted her first. And she stopped those robbers from stealing the old couples precious items. As for his niece, she already explained what happened. She swallowed. Attempting to convince him proved pointless. He’d made up his mind regarding her. Every minute she stayed here was a risk on her part. He said his friends were on their way with blood, but what if he had more sinister ideas in mind? For all she knew he planned on torturing her. “You’re out to get me, aren’t you?”

  “What?”

  Step by cautious step, she backed away. Why hadn’t she suspected this earlier? He knew of her fear of the sun, her thirst for blood. “Are you working with someone? I bet you’re part of an enemy group who capture vampires.”

  When he prowled forward, she dashed down the hall, into the living room. Stop him! She smashed a porcelain lamp to the floor. Ian staggered to a halt before the broken shards and growled. A soft whimper left her throat. His deep-set scowl faded as his face softened. Ian puffed out a breath, his posture stiff as he stared from her to the sharp pieces on the floor. Palms lifted nice and slow in a calm gesture, he raised a brow.

  Rachel blinked at the fruit bowl she held, unable to recall when she grabbed the round dish. Breath panted from her like a smoker struggling to climb a set of stairs, her body shivering with violent force.

  “Put down the bowl.”

  At his soft words, she gripped the cold object tighter. Caution flashed in his eyes as he stepped closer. He was more wary of her than what she was of him. Rachel’s pounding heart settled. She glanced at the mess she made. The way she reacted, or in this case overreacted. What the hell was she, bipolar? Delusions and hysterical outbursts for no valid reason weren’t normal. She placed the fruit bowl on the coffee table, gaze averted to the switched off television above the fireplace. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, refusing eye-contact.

  Footsteps confirmed Ian left the room, but he returned moments later. Clinking glass brought her gaze to him. He wasn’t looking her way, too busy cleaning the mess she made. Her cheeks burned. In the mirror above the dining table, she caught her reflection. Hair messier than Kumiko from Karate Kid, eyes wide and craze-filled. Was she going insane? Rachel bit her inner cheek.

  “I’ve got this.” On the floor beside him, she snatched the brush and pan.

  “It’s fine,” he snapped, hands held out for the cleaning utensils, but she refused with a shake of her head.

  “Go for your shower,” she spat, her body tense. Damn daylight keeping her from fleeing.

  Silence stretched between them for several moments before he sighed and jumped to his feet.

  “Rachel, I…”

  Whatever he meant to say faded in the air, his retreating steps stomped down the hall. Now she had a few minutes alone in her misery. She couldn’t stay here, stuck with a man who detested her. Someway, somehow, she would find her father, find her family.

  Chapter 4

  Ian stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. Paused in front of the mirror, he tilted his head. Light breathing and a beating heart resonated from the living area. At least she was still here. Not that she had somewhere to go this time of day. His palm squeaked against the round glass as he wiped away condensation. Alpine scented the air from the shaving cream he applied to his face, and he removed the day-old stubble along his jaw. His muscles knotted. Rachel’s accusations and wild eyes had sent his head spinning. The parasite was unstable, unpredictable. In the living room he’d almost asked if she was okay, but nipped the idea in the bud. A good thing he had. She might have overreacted after the absurd things she accused him of. An enemy group that capture her kind? He shook his head. She’d seemed so convinced. It disturbed him to witness such abnormal behavior.

  A good thing his sisters left when they had. Thank God they listened and didn’t return with his brothers’ in-law and their packs. A group of vengeful werewolves would have been impossible to restrain. Damn it, he might have joined them. Tendons coiled beneath his skin, he slammed a drawer shut, so hard, the mirror vibrated. For sure either Helen or Linda already called their mother to vent over what took place here. He’d yelled at them…all of them. A pang in his chest struck. He should have stayed calm, for their sakes. His family deserved an explanation. What the hell could he tell them? He had to keep the dangerous vampire here for the sake of the community? Face hot with shame, a part of him was glad his father wasn’t alive to see him now.

  Four-thirty pm flashed on the bedside alarm clock. With any luck, she didn’t destroy the rest of his furniture. The woman needed professional help. Dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a plain gray shirt, he braced himself before stepping out of the room. What would he find, a terrified woman shaking in a corner, a derailed vampire ready to haul more allegations…and lamps?

  In the living area, Rachel sat on the sofa watching tv…make that flicking through channels. The black hoodie she’d worn earlier lay across the armrest. At some point during his shower, she’d lowered her hair. Auburn locks framed her heart-shaped face. Even though her gaze remained level with the screen, she stared without blinking, not focused on anything. Lost, dejected. She resembled a model, waiting for an artist to capture her beautiful yet tragic appearance on canvas. A web of emotion spiralled around his chest at her dead silence.

  Even with their short time together, he’d grown accustomed to her smart mouth and quick wit. Despite not reacting to her dry sense of humor, he had enjoyed those quirky qualities, reminded him of his own comical aspect. Or at least how he used to be before his mate died. With Rachel in this frame of mind, she might have another outburst.

  Fists clenched, he stepped closer. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” The tightness of his jaw made the words gritty.

  With an impatient huff, she set down the remote after selecting a channel with a tabloid talk show. “If I want to discuss it, I’ll bring it up.”

  “Well, have you experienced an episode before?”

  Jaw rigid, she sprung to her feet. “Episode? You make it sound as though I have a disorder.”

  “Do you?”

  “I deserve to overreact, considering I have no idea who I am.” Wavy hair swayed off her shoulders as she shook her head. “None of which is any of your business. As I said earlier, I’ll be out by nightfall.”

  The stubborn woman returned, guns blazing. “And I told you, that is not happening.”

  A careless hand flicked the air. “Right, I’m a menace to society. Bite me!”

  Arms crossed, he clenched his jaw. “That’s what I’m afraid you’ll do to others.”

  “Since we’re being honest here, why not tell me the real reason you’re afraid?”

  As though caught red-handed, his body tensed. But he had nothing to hide. “What are you talking about?”

  Her silent gaze locked with his. “You’re afraid you have the hots for a bloodsucker?”

  The muscles in his cheeks hurt as he spared a mock grin. “Well, aren’t you a modest little leech.”

  A raised brow and the perfect curve of her tilted chin met his mockery with confidence. “You’re covering the look of lust with detest, but it’s not working. I can smell you.” She sidestepped the coffee table and ambled toward him. Even in a tucked polo and denims, she sauntered forward as if in sheer lingerie. “You’re hot, you’re bothered, and you’re fighting it.” With each declaration, she stepped closer. His heart pounded louder in his ears.

  Mere inches separated them now. She angled her neck. That sensual mouth a whisper from his. He lost himself, drowned in her hazel depths.

  “You don’t know what’s more frustrating, the fact I’m a vampire, or that you want me.”
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  When did her arms snake his neck? She arched into him. The delicious contact stole his sensibility.

  Warm, feminine curves met the hardness of his body. Ian hissed. A perfect match, male and female, both from two strong lines of species physically ransomed by an instinct as old as time…raw attraction. “Don’t flatter yourself, vampire. You’re not my type.” Dammit, his low, rumbling voice didn’t sound in the least convincing.

  A gentle fingertip danced along his jawline. “The feeling’s mutual, Wolfy.” She stroked from his chin to the top of his chest. “Besides, who says we have to like each other?”

  All reason escaped his mind as he brushed a thumb across her lip. He intended to kiss her. He had to. How could this perfect specimen of a woman be so close and he not kiss her? His mouth watered, gums tender. The slope of her neck drew his attention. Instinct screamed for him to sink his teeth into her skin, sample her rusty sweetness.

  A knock at the door made them both jump.

  Sweat beaded at the nape of his neck, limbs trembling. He staggered backward with a finger pointed her way. In the minutes she’d been close against him, he had forgotten the monster this woman was. The same leech who drove away his family. “What the hell were you doing to me just now?”

  She stared him down. “Nothing you didn’t want.”

  The temptation to drink her blood had been real and intense. He groaned in disgust. As a werewolf, the one time his teeth sank into flesh was when he marked his mate, but not to drink blood. Never to do that. Yet, he’d been seconds away from doing that to Rachel. A vampire for crying out loud! What the hell did she do a second ago, compel him to bite as a vampire would? Had to be a trick, an unknown ability her kind possessed.

  Another knock sounded. Rachel crouched slightly, wide gaze on the front door.

  “My friends are here,” he said to calm her paranoia.

  “I don’t want to see them.”

  Was she afraid of them or herself?

  The species approached their fourth year in the peace treaty. Although some, like Chayton and Amber didn’t have a problem with vampires, others, including himself disagreed with the idea of befriending one. And yet, here he aided one with blood. “Hide in the bathroom. I’ll bring you what you need.”