The gravel crunched beneath Olivia’s boots, the sound so familiar she had never paid it any mind—not until that moment. Damn, but it was loud. The sound rose in the night air, a clear warning to anyone who was listening that she was approaching the back of the house. She remembered hours of working in the sun with Logan to create this path, just days after they’d bought the house. She remembered how hot it had been and how the sun had played over his golden skin until she had needed to touch him. Ludicrous. How much time and energy had she devoted to this stupid path? As for the sun being enjoyable…
A curtain of evergreen trees lined the back of the property, giving privacy not only to the backyard but also to the master bedroom. She snickered. Curtains hung on either side of the French windows, but as usual, Logan had forgotten to draw them. Perfect. She had lectured him about it dozens of times, warning him that an intruder might take the open window as an invitation. I’m a big boy. I can defend myself, he always answered, laughing. They would quickly see how well that worked for him this time.
As soon as she turned the corner of the house, she knew the window was open. She could hear water running inside from the master bath as clearly as if she had been in there. Silly man. Stepping more lightly than ever, she continued to advance, keeping to the shadows. A gust of wind swept by her, cool, carrying the scent of the evergreens. She’d never noticed it before.
In three more steps, she reached the window. She gave up on the pretense of hiding and stood just beyond the open glass door, looking in. The bedroom was as she had left it—had it been only five nights? It felt like much longer. An entire lifetime. It was crazy how much things could change in five short nights.
Clothes were strewn across the floor, waiting to be thrown into the laundry basket. On the wall, the crossbow seemed as out of place as it ever had, but the sense of comfort and security it had once given Olivia was gone. She scowled at the weapon. Had Logan used this one to kill Ann?
Shaking the thought off, she continued to observe the room. The bed was unmade, heavy cotton sheets rumpled and askew.
A flash of memory coursed through Olivia like a bolt of lightning, and for a second, just a second, she was back to five nights earlier, kneeling on those same sheets, Logan’s hands tightly clutching her hips as she thrust herself down onto his cock, over and over and—
Unconsciously, she took a deep breath to clear her mind. Bad idea. It didn’t help, far from it, and she could feel her panties growing wet from excitement. Even though five nights had passed, the scent of sex was still there. She doubted Logan could have noticed it, but to her, to what she now was, the scent was there, oh, yes, heavy and musky, the scent of his sweet come filling her, of their shared pleasure before they had gone out to hunt. Her Sire had told her she smelled good, before the bite, before the blood. Olivia hadn’t understood then. She did now.
Movement caught her eye through the open bathroom door. Her sudden smile bared her fangs. Jackpot. Logan was standing in the shower, oblivious to the show he offered her. Her eyes followed the curve of his neck and slid down along his back to his firm ass. Silly, silly man. How had she ever—
Another memory seared her mind and senses, overwhelming her. They’d been sharing a bath, and one thing had led to another, and she had soon been bent over, her hands flat on the porcelain edge of the tub, groaning with each slide of Logan’s cock inside her, so hot and hard—
She squeezed her thighs together, relishing the pressure. She almost cursed when she realized she had missed him stepping out of the shower. He was wearing a robe now, and it remained open, revealing a long strip of his muscled chest, tanned skin, and the dark curls from which his cock hung, heavy and thick even at rest. Olivia’s eyes followed him as he walked around the room, oblivious to her presence—or not that oblivious, after all. He had just picked up the crossbow from the wall and turned straight toward her, aiming the wooden arrow in the direction of the open window. His accuracy with that thing was excellent; she had trained him herself.
“Logan, my love,” she started, raising a hand to her still heart. “It’s all so different—”
“Don’t even try.” His voice was sharp as a knife. “We learned that lesson together, remember?”
She shrugged, grinning, and dropped the pretense. “What can I say? You look so fuckable, I had to try.”
He didn’t acknowledge that she had spoken, but for just a second, the crossbow wavered.
“Why are you here?”
Her smile vanished. Ice encased her chest, making it hard for her to breathe—until she remembered she didn’t need to. “You know why. You killed my Sire.”
“I did my job. And I avenged the woman I loved.”
Despite herself, she growled. “You tore a hole in my chest and mind, that’s what you did! Did you even stop to think about it? You knew it would happen. They told us at the Academy about that. Don’t you remember?”
“Go for Childer first,” he quoted, straight out of the textbook. “Killing their Sire might make them insane with pain and that much harder to kill.”
She took a step closer to the window and rested both her hands on the invisible magic barrier that was stopping her from entering. “Why didn’t you do it, then?” she asked. “Why not follow protocol?”
He lowered the crossbow and used his free hand to hold the robe closed. When he met her gaze, she could see rare tears in his proud eyes. Closing her fists, she pounded on the barrier, resulting in nothing more than to make him start slightly in surprise.
“I knew she had killed,” he said softly. “I didn’t know if you…”
She snorted when he couldn’t even finish. And to think she’d once believed he was a better Special Enforcer than she was! To think she had come here believing it would be a fitting end to their story! She was a fool, that was what she was. And he was no better.
“Why don’t you come out here, my love?” she taunted. “You’ll know firsthand—”
Without warning, he raised the crossbow again and pressed the trigger. Caught by surprise, Olivia barely had time to move. She felt the arrow graze her shoulder. It didn’t even tear the fabric of her shirt, but the memory flashed brightly through her mind anyway, blinding her for an instant. When she could see, feel, hear, she remembered at once. She’d just come home from the hospital, with the doctor’s strict orders to take things slow and easy for a while. And they had slipped into bed and done just that. Slow and easy. Lying on their sides, kissing and touching and holding as they rocked against each other, not trying to reach a climax but merely to reassure each other. It had been a close call. She could still hear his voice, repeating over and again as she fell asleep in his arms—
“I love you.”
Blinking back to the present, Olivia looked at the man in front of her, just beyond her reach.
“I love you,” he repeated. “But if you kill, I will stake you.”
Pain and anger pulled a growl from her throat. He shouldn’t have said that. He should have known better. She had hoped he’d be able to see her for what she was. She still wasn’t sure he did, but she could help him get there.
“Not if I kill you first, lover,” she replied, snarling.
For just an instant, she thought she saw him smile.
“It’s a date, then.”
“A date?” she snorted. Only Logan would come up with such a silly notion. “I guess you didn’t get the program, but it’s already started, lover. Why do you think I’m here?”
His eyes never leaving her, he placed the crossbow on the dresser. “I don’t know. What did you expect to do?” With a shrug of his shoulders, the robe slid off him, leaving him nude, just two yards away from Olivia. He might as well have been on the other side of the world. “It’s not like you can get in,” he said, mocking, echoing Olivia’s thoughts.
Her hands returned to the barrier that protected him, and she unconsciously pressed forward. Inside, Logan had turned away from her. She watched him put on some boxers, then slide into tight jeans and a white t-shirt. Only when she noticed the extra wiggle to his ass and a furtive glance from the corner of his eye did she get it—he was putting on a show for her. And it worked. Her panties clung to her folds, her hands clenching in thin air the way she wished she could rip his clothes off his body. Another growl erupted from her throat. Logan threw her a triumphant look.
“Problem?” he said in a falsely sweet voice.
“Only for you when I rip out your throat.”
All emotions drained from his face. He took a step back, then another, and left the bedroom, swinging the door shut behind him. Olivia closed her eyes and, for a moment, rested her forehead against the barrier. Hunger tore at her guts, demanding that she feed, but her desire was even stronger. She didn’t know how she could bear to talk to him when her body yearned so much for his. She didn’t know how she would get through this anymore. She just knew she had to.
… continued in His Lover’s Fangs