mode of transportation stashed here.” I can’t quite contain my smile.
“What other mode of transportation?” His voice betrays his distrust.
“My car, Bryce. A standard–well, maybe not standard–runs-with-an-engine car. She’s my baby, and I love her. Don’t hurt her or I’ll hurt you. Understand?”
Bryce ignores me and lights up a cigarette from a pack he fished from his duffel bag. His eyes practically roll back in his head as he inhales.
Normally I abhor the smell of tobacco, but somehow it fits with Bryce, blending in with his already earthy scent. I’ve lost my hair band somewhere along the way, and after the flight my hair is tangled into an unattractive mess beneath my hood. Oh well, I suppose it matches the rest of my disheveled appearance. Nearly dislocating my shoulder, I try to untangle the clasp stuck in my hair so I can release the key from the cord. This is really tricky when one is trying not to flash any skin.
“Do you, um, need any help?” Bryce looks mildly irritated as he grinds out his cigarette with the toe of his boot.
“The stupid clasp is stuck in my hair and I can’t get it undone.”
“So what you’re saying is...you need help.” Bryce steps close to me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off of him, soothing my icy skin. His callused hands skim over my neck, slip beneath my hood, and fist in my hair. It is a good thing I don’t need to breathe, because I don’t think it would be possible in this close proximity. “Hold on a sec, I need to untangle the knot it’s wound itself into.” Bryce’s voice is a hoarse whisper, promising the fulfillment of carnal desires, even if he isn’t aware of it.
I swallow the lump lodged in my throat. I need to talk or do something to distract myself. “So Bryce, is there a Mrs. Big Bad Wolf waiting back in the compound for you?”
“What is it to you if there is or isn’t?” Bryce grunts, tugging none-too-gently at my tangled hair.
“Just curious.” I scuff the toe of my boot through some sludge on the street. I know it’s pretty stupid to even make the smallest personal connection between us.
“No, I haven’t met my mate yet.” With a small growl, Bryce pulls his hands from my hair and removes a knife from the belt holding his brown leather pants in place.
“Pent up a little, are we?”
With another growl Bryce slides the blade between my skin and the leather cord, and cuts it off in one smooth motion. The key clatters to the road. Not waiting for me, he picks up the key and strides over to the door. “What about you? Any sleazy vampire guys stake their claim on you? Maybe the one who left those marks on your neck?”
“I have been fucked–both literally and figuratively–by men of all species, more times than I care to recall. I have no need for a man.”
With a sharp tug to the rusted lock Bryce gets it to loosen enough to pop open. The door swings free. Following him into the blessed darkness of the garage, I swing the doors shut and latch them from the inside. I begin an incantation to summon an orb of light. We both have excellent night vision, but I want Bryce to know I’m not staging an ambush. As the orb casts a gentle glow on the cement floor, I turn around and run smack into Bryce, whose arms automatically circle me to keep me from toppling over. Even though we hate each other, he’s still a gentleman. “Thanks,” I mumble, shaking off his arms. A tiny thread of excitement worms its way through me at the prospect of seeing my baby again. “Bryce, grab one side of the car cover, will you? Help me peel it off. You’d better be careful, though.”
“So let me get this straight. You don’t give a second thought to stabbing, collaring or shooting just about any species, yet you have tender feelings toward a machine?”
“Yep. She’s never let me down.” I sigh in satisfaction at the sight of my 1966 fastback Mustang. She sparkles from her sleek black paint down to her chrome wheel covers. She is a thing of beauty. It only cost me an arm and a leg–and maybe a “favor” or two–to get her over here from the States. Then there were the countless hours of labor and Google searches for mechanical assistance, all to get her into the pristine condition she is in now.
Bryce lets out a low whistle of appreciation. “You sure know how to pick your machinery.”
“Indeed I do. As soon as my damn wings decide to fold back in, we can take her out.” I wish it wasn’t so goddamn early; the banks won’t be open for hours and I’m anxious to get going. “Bryce? Do you happen to know what time it is?” I’m being a total coward, and don’t want to see how many times Steele has called since I put the phone on silent.
“Time for you to get a watch,” he says, before pulling a pocket watch from his jacket. “Six-thirty.” Closing the watch, he shoves it back into his pocket. “I’m going out to smoke.” He lights up another cigarette and heads for the door.
With a turn of my key I pop the trunk and, seeing all my old familiar tools of the trade, feel a little more like myself. I’ll be the only vampire running around in a car loaded with things designed to kill vampires. My nose wrinkles as I catch a whiff of the odor wafting off my clothes. I’m in dire need of new ones, and a shower. Since Bryce is out taking a smoke break, I guess there’s no time like the present.
The buttons on my jacket are practically crusted with dried blood. Once I manage to pry them apart I throw my jacket to the side; there’s no saving it. Most of my wounds have healed, but I’m still stiff as hell and unlacing my knee-high combat boots is not fun. After I toss my boots into the ruined pile, I realize my pants are pretty much stuck solidly to my body. With a sigh I grab a small knife from the trunk, walk to the front of my car and plop down on the hood. Slowly, I start cutting sections of my pants and peeling the leather off of my skin until I’m sitting in the buff, perched atop the hood of my car. The door opens just enough to permit a body through.
“Hi, Bryce.” I slide off the hood of my car with all the dignity one can when totally nude. Bryce just stands there, staring at me like an animal ready to pounce its prey. “Um, have you never seen a naked woman before?” I stutter, not sure if I should shoot him or run, or both.
His eyes still glittering with lust, even in the dark confines of the garage, Bryce advances a step in my direction. His movements are sleek and smooth, deadly. “We need to get going.”
“The banks don’t open for a few hours, so unless you have enough cash stashed in your duffel bag to get us both to New York, we’re, um, going to have to wait.” Sidestepping Bryce, I try to retreat to the car and clothes to shield myself from his hungry, predatory gaze. His hand snaps out and wraps around my arm, holding me firmly and stopping my retreat.
“We don’t need your money, princess,” Bryce rasps. “I have a private jet waiting for us about ten miles from here.”
“Why didn’t you mention this sooner?” I flush underneath his scorching gaze. This concerns me, since my flesh is usually as cold as my dead heart.
“I had to make a phone call to make sure it was possible.” With a sharp tug Bryce pulls me fully against him. The air surrounding us all but crackles with the sudden sexual tension between us.
“Where did you get a phone?” I breathe. My hand creeps out on its own, without any encouragement from me, and rests against the warm, solid wall of Bryce’s chest.
“Pay phone.” Bryce’s lips descend an inch toward
