21 Shades of Night, page 227
She glanced at his date’s red hair piled on top of her head, but her dark roots indicated she’d colored it. So he went for faux redheads, too.
When the hostess handed Sutton a menu, Alena switched her attention to him. His mesmerizing eyes weren’t focused on the waitress or the menu, but on Alena instead. Instantly, her cheeks burned, and a flush of heat crept through the rest of her body.
Jeez, would he think she was interested in him because she ogled him like an awestruck fan of a popular movie star?
But wasn’t that her job? Intrigue him, learn his secrets, then... kill him?
* * *
SUTTON ORDERED TWO glasses of merlot from the steward, though he could barely keep from staring at the red-haired woman seated at the booth across from his table. Unmistakably, she resembled his beloved Elizabeth. Could she possibly be another reincarnation? It was all he could do to keep his seat and not force his attentions upon her, compelling her to remember him, inducing her to agree to bond with him, and love him eternally like he wished to love her.
A sprinkling of tiny freckles bridged her nose, and her thick red hair hung about her shoulders in curls, natural as the day she was born. But it was the way her cheeks grew red when she caught his eye that intrigued him even more. Did she recognize him then? Just an inkling? Even her naked neck showed a tinge of color, and he imagined she’d blushed all the way to her toes strapped into black high-heeled sandals.
Her black chiffon skirt reached below her knees, outlining the rest of her shapely legs. The neckline of her dress scooped low enough to make him want to see further, but was modestly sensual, fitting nicely over well-rounded breasts.
He leaned back against his chair.
The lady in the booth across from him sat quietly wringing her hands in her lap. Somehow, he had to discover if what he suspected was true—she was Elizabeth, all over again.
If so, the coincidence that she would be here at this day of the week, this particular time, this place, sitting across from him, was fate. Maybe this time, he’d get it right.
When Kitty returned to take his order, he leaned forward to speak with her privately. “The lady seated alone at that booth. Who is she?”
“I haven’t any idea, Mr. Bastrop.”
He snapped his head up and concentrated on the waitress’s eyes. “Find out who the woman is,” he communicated telepathically. Then he motioned to Mona. “We’ll both have the veal scaloppini.”
“Yes, sir.” Kitty walked over to the redhead’s table with her usual springy step that made her blond curls bounce. “Mr. Bastrop desires to know your name, miss.”
“Who’s Mr. Bastrop?” the woman asked, her brows lifted, a challenge in her demeanor.
Sutton studied Red’s full, peach-colored lips pursed slightly, though the bottom had lost most of its gloss.
“The gentleman at that table.” Kitty motioned to him.
When Red looked his way, Sutton gave her one of his most charming smiles.
She lifted her glass of wine, but no smile touched her lips. Her aquamarine eyes boldly held his gaze. “Why does he want to know?”
His smile faded. He wasn’t used to being questioned in return. Women were drawn to him like lacy ferns sought the shadows of the deep forest. They pursued him, not the other way around. Annoyed, he straightened his back. He thought to himself, just answer the question, lass.
Kitty stared at Sutton, seemingly unsure what to say next.
He let us his breath in exasperation and told her telepathically, “Tell the lady she looks astonishingly like Elizabeth MacLeod, a dear friend of mine some years back.”
Kitty put on her perky face and relayed the information to the mystery redhead.
Red’s eyes widened, her lips parted, and the wine glass slipped from her hand. The delicate glass instantly shattered and splashed the remaining wine over her tabletop.
His heart pounding with a flurry of hope, Sutton jumped to his feet. Could he be so fortunate to find Elizabeth again? Most importantly, did she remember him? The love they’d shared? And the promise she’d made to him?
Red shoved the wine away from the edge of the table with her hands to keep it from spilling on her dress, her own napkin still wrapped securely around her silverware. The waitress ran to get napkins.
When Sutton reached the woman’s table with his napkin, he smelled blood. Blood on her hand. She’d cut her palm while shoving away the wine and broken glass. And the fragrance of her blood threatened to drive him over the edge, urging him to bond, to finish what they’d begun so many years ago.
The copper scent created a craving so strong he had to fight the bloodlust with every ounce of willpower. Biting down on his teeth, he clenched his jaw to keep from extending his canines. He clamped the napkin on her hand, but she shook her head.
“No, the wine.” She tried to wipe up some of the spilled drink with her own napkin still wound tightly around the silverware.
Disregarding her concern and concentrating instead on his own, Sutton held her left hand hostage. “You’ve cut yourself.”
She stopped her frantic effort over the spilled wine and jerked her attention to her hand. “I’m... I’m all right.” Alarm tinged her voice, but she spoke firmly. She tried to pull her hand away.
He held on tighter. Her resemblance to Elizabeth couldn’t be mere coincidence. Not only that, but the reaction she exhibited at hearing Elizabeth’s name... well, he had to know, was she somehow linked to his past love? Certain it was so, he wasn’t letting her go.
Her breathing grew shallow under his scrutiny, but when his gaze sought hers, his own breath caught. He was sure he saw a fleeting moment of recognition in her eyes, but as soon as it had come, it passed.
The waitress threw a towel over the table to soak up the spill while Sutton pulled Red from her seat to ensure the wine didn’t drip off the table and stain her dress. He still held onto her hand, wanting to remove the glass if any clung to her skin, but he didn’t want to expose her open cuts.
Worst of all, his canines still threatened to extend. He hadn’t had this little control over his bloodlust since he was first turned, three hundred years earlier. Then realization dawned on him. The scent of her blood... it was Elizabeth’s. He’d recognize it anywhere.
The sinking notion her family would kill her again, before he had a chance to prove to her they loved one another hit him all at once. They had to blood bond to break the curse.
She tried to remove her hand from his again. Immediately, he looked into her eyes and attempted to control her mind, to calm her, and to force her to reveal her name. For a moment, he saw confusion in the pools of blue, but then a wall of stone rose into place, locking him out.
As ancient as Sutton was, he should have guessed Red was a huntress just like Elizabeth had been, only in this day and age, off limits. And she must have sensed he was a vampire. That’s why she feared showing her bloodied hand to him. But he wasn’t a rogue. The League of Hunters wouldn’t have voted to terminate him. So why would she be so concerned?
He unwrapped the napkin from her hand and picked the glass fragments off her skin. His heartbeat increased rapidly, and so did hers. He could feel it in her speedy pulse, her quick warm breath at his neck, and the sound of her heart beating in panic, like a hummingbird’s in captivity.
Her lilac fragrance and the warmth of her body drew him closer. She was an aphrodisiac over which he had little control.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Someone you should fear,” she said under her breath, her gaze focused midway down his shirt, her darkened lashes hiding her blue eyes, her words spoken in warning.
He smiled, lifted her chin, and gazed into her eyes. “Yet it is you who is afraid of me, lass, and this cannot be.”
Chapter 2
LOSING HER COOL, Alena yanked her hand free from Sutton’s as her body burned with chagrin in the chilly Italian restaurant. Arrogant, that’s what vampires were. No way was she afraid of Sutton Bastrop, a vampire on her terminal list. She seized her purse, then fumbled inside trying to find her wallet.
Yet she was fearful of him, afraid of what his touch did to her hormones, sending them spinning out of control. Even now her panties had grown damp, her breasts had swelled, and her nipples tightened, pressing hard against her lace bra.
What was the matter with her anyway?
Sutton was the matter. Her intimate knowledge of him was the matter. His acting as though they knew each other thoroughly was the matter.
Case of mistaken identity, she told herself.
So why did she have the same uncanny feeling?
The waitress cleared her throat. “I’ll bring you another glass of wine, miss. Were you ready to order?”
“I’m...” She glanced up at Sutton who stood way too close to her, the heat of his body turning her own thermostat up too high. “I’m no longer hungry.”
She yanked her wallet out, pulled out a five, and dropped it on the table.
“It’s seven-fifty, miss,” the waitress said.
Alena squelched the irritation rising in her blood. She normally only drank water at restaurants. They charged way too much for anything else. Scottish frugality—that’s what her hunter friends said about her conservative spending. But to her way of thinking, the management should have offered to give her the drink free of charge, as a courtesy.
Sutton pulled a twenty out of his wallet, then rescued her five for her. She shook her head, and added two more dollars and five dimes to the growing pile of treasure.
“Thank you, but I pay my own way.” She waited for Sutton to move out of her path, but he didn’t budge. “Excuse me.” She hoped he’d get the message she wished to leave before she had to force the issue.
Yet despite wanting to leave, her eyes focused on his mouth. Had his lips really felt as she envisioned when he’d pressed them against hers? Warm and smooth and oh, so incredibly sensual.
She licked her lips and swallowed hard.
“Our salads and hot bread have arrived, Sutton,” his date called out in a gratingly high-pitched voice.
Alena’s gaze shot to his date and the spell Sutton held over Alena instantly vanished. He was already seeing a redhead and attempting to pick up Alena also? Did he want a ménage a trois? She bristled.
Ignoring his date, Sutton offered his hand to Alena. “Sutton Bastrop.”
The sensuous Scottish lilt to his words triggered more strange vague memories and instantly the irritation born of her contempt for his interest in her when he already had a date dissipated. Yet, she avoided taking his hand, fearing what more of his touch would do to her.
She lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes. “I believe your date and your food are waiting. I’m sure you don’t want either of them to get cold.”
Sutton gave her an elusive smile. At first, he hesitated to move out of her path. She swore he was battling with his conscience to allow her to pass. It was as though he’d targeted her, caught her, and didn’t want to let go. Then finally he bowed slightly, conceding the battle, and stepped out of her way. But not far enough to give her room enough to walk without brushing up against him. The calculatingly, irritating vampire. A rogue to be sure.
“Until we meet again, lass.” His deep baritone voice nudged again at buried memories—memories not her own, and yet if they weren’t hers, whose were they? And why would they be plaguing her?
She truly needed a vacation.
The way he smiled at her so damned intimately, as if they had shared a wealth of secrets in some bawdry past made her face grow hot and her legs turn to melted marshmallows. Totally flustered, she hurried past him and stalked out of the restaurant, hoping she hadn’t made a complete fool of herself.
What in the world was the matter with her? He was a rogue vampire, pure and simple. And she had a job to do, as disagreeable as it was. She’d never met him before in her life. So why did she want him to kiss her—to prove it?
For whatever reason, the League had been right. He appeared interested in her despite recognizing she was a huntress. He must be mad to be attracted to a huntress when the two kinds weren’t allowed to mix.
Alena couldn’t help but sense the League was hiding something about this assignment, though. She’d turned down two other missions before that she hadn’t felt capable of handling. They’d had no problem with her decision then. Why not this time?
Outside her heels clattered against the slippery cobblestones, and the echo of her footfalls rippled into the blackness only vaguely illuminated by soft romantic, old-time brass lanterns. A misty rain began to fall. By the time she reached her blue Mustang, her curls had straightened, dripping down her front and back. Typical unpredictable Maryland spring weather. She hadn’t even considered to bring her raincoat tonight as stressed out as she’d been about seeing David and learning what mission he’d give her.
Her wet dress clung to her like a second skin, and she shivered in the slight breeze while opening her car door. The interior light illuminated her in a wash of bright light against the dark night as if the floodlights had just come on to expose her every move. And in that instant, she sensed someone standing in the gray rain, watching her.
Her skin crawling, she climbed into her car and felt as wet as the towel that was used to mop up her spilled wine. And damn. She really was hungry. But she couldn’t have suffered a meal while tall, dark, handsome, and vampiric studied her every move the rest of the evening.
She glanced at the restaurant. Sutton stood in the lighted entryway, his arms folded, the same kind of wry amusement twisting his lips like in the photo. Lightning flashed overhead and instantly the image of Sutton unfastening a brooch pinned to the plaid shawl at her breast flashed across her thoughts.
Slamming her door shut, she shook her head and vowed to get an appointment with the League’s psychiatrist, first chance she got.
* * *
OUT OF THE rain, Sutton stood under the striped awning at the entrance to the restaurant, mesmerized by Red’s shapely image as she’d stood in the downpour, attempting to unlock her car door, her silky dress plastered against every voluptuous curve, leaving nothing to the imagination.
He memorized the huntress’s license plates as the rainwater rolled off her car. Tonight, he’d know who the red-haired lass was and where she lived. He would not let her go.
A flash of light caught his eye, and he shifted his attention to a hooded man in black as he stood leaning next to a black sedan partially sheltered by the outstretched branches of an old oak tree while he watched Alena. He snapped a lighter shut, took a drag on his cigarette, then pulled a cell phone to his ear and began speaking.
“She’s leaving the restaurant already. She couldn’t have had time to eat. She must have been meeting someone. Her cousin, the enforcer was here, too. And his older brother also. But both left well before she did.”
No one responded to the man on the phone that Sutton with his keen sense of hearing could detect. Which meant the person on the other end of the line was listening, deathly quiet.
“I’ll follow her and let you know when she heads for her place,” the man said into the phone.
As soon as Alena started her engine, the smoker dropped his cigarette, snapped his phone shut, then grabbed the door handle to the black sedan with his free hand. Although it possibly meant nothing, Sutton had lived for too many centuries not to concern himself with coincidences.
Appearing next to the car, Sutton grabbed the phone from the man’s slender fingers and smashed the device against the wet asphalt.
“Hey, what the…” Balling his fist, the smoker swung at Sutton, but Sutton easily dodged the blow. “Who the hell are—”
“What do you want with the woman?” Sutton asked, pinning the man against his car, his hand at his scrawny throat, his eyes focused on the man’s ice blue eyes while trying to control his mind, his fangs threatening to extend.
“None of your business, you damned bloodsucker.”
Recognition dawning that the man was a blood bond for another vampire and that was the reason he couldn’t make him obey, Sutton motioned to the car, still trying to get his compliance. A more ancient vampire could control a blood bond who was working for one who was not nearly so old. “Invite me in.”
His whole scrawny body trembling, the blood bond defiantly shook his head. Hell, the vampire controlling the smoker had to be an ancient also.
“Who sent you here?” Sutton asked, forcing the man’s keys from his hand, just short of breaking his fingers when he wouldn’t release them willingly.
He would have preferred having the hood release activated. Without an invitation, Sutton was unable to get into the car and had no other choice. He hated having to do things the hard way. But when the man wouldn’t comply, Sutton released him, then quickly moved around to the front of the car, and ripped the hood open with a resounding grinding of metal.
The blood bond squawked in protest, but didn’t make a move to stop him. Sutton reached in and yanked out the distributor cap and starter wire.
“Hey!” The blood bond surged forward and grabbed Sutton’s arm with a fierce grip. Sutton extended his fangs and bared them fully at the man.
Throwing his hands in the air in a gesture of capitulation, the man backed off, his ruddy face now ashen. “Listen, man, now… what do you want?”
“The truth. Who is the woman, and who’s interested in her?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head to emphasis his answer. “A vampire’s paying me to follow her. I don’t know his name or what her name is. Just that she’s a huntress. I assume the vampire’s on her terminal list.” He eyed the distributer cap and starter wire in Sutton’s hands. “Can I have them back?” This time the blood bond was respectful, almost pleading.
