Beauty Bites Read online

  “Synnove, mmm. You taste wonderful. Sweet. Hot. Bright.”

  “Hey. I’m right here.” Camille’s tone was pouty.

  “Pure sunshine.” His voice slid like silk over my lips.

  “Right here.” There was the sound of strings being tied, testily. “Fine. You’ve made your point. For now.”

  A skirt swished sharply to the door. The door opened then slammed shut.

  With a sigh, Ric lifted his head. I lay in his arms, my lips throbbing pleasantly, wondering what had just happened.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  I wasn’t.

  “I wouldn’t have kissed you like that, but she’d never have believed it with anyone less beautiful than you.”

  I snapped straight. Now I was sorry too, very sorry. Dammit, my first impression was right. He’d kissed me for show.

  It didn’t help that I’d kissed him because I was stupidly turned on.

  “No problem.” I pulled out of his arms. My tone of voice left no doubt that, hey, huge problem. But he himself had handed me the stick to motivate him to our side. “You needed my help, I helped.”

  His eyes narrowed. He nodded cautiously. “Thanks. I appreciate—”

  “And Now You Owe Me.” I made sure he heard the capital letters.

  His eyes glinted like blue fire opals. “Do I.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Quid pro quo, Holiday. I did you a favor, you do me one.”

  “I am not, under any circumstances, going to Meiers Corners.” His teeth glinted as he spoke, canines extra-long.

  The problem with a barely civilized male is that, when you corner him, the talons come out. His tone was so deadly, my insides spasmed. I held the advantage, but it was time to beat a strategic retreat. “We’ll see about that.” Mouth still throbbing from that kiss, I stalked out.

  Yes, maybe I should have pressed. Ric Holiday owed me and there was only one thing I wanted in return.

  My swollen lips reminded me there were actually two things. But I didn’t want to want the second. So I left, at least until I could press my advantage in the proper way.

  Annoyed that I wanted the second thing more.

  As I stalked through the glittering partyrazzi, my irritation translated into motion. Ric’s—Holiday’s suit coat snapped behind me like a cape, exposing my fluffed bosom, but I didn’t care. I stuck both chest and jaw out, making more like Wonder-Woman than Wonder-bra, elbowing through the crowd until the front door was in sight.

  A claw-banged blond blocked my way. Charles Little grabbed for me.

  As Synnove slammed out of his sanctum, Ric’s eyes snapped involuntarily to the sway of her hips, so fast that he got ocular whiplash. His heart stopped beating for a moment at the sheer beauty of her backside, its lushness evident even under his tightly pulled coat.

  Literally. His heart stopped pumping. Fortunately any such physical ailments were quickly remedied. He flexed the muscle with a thought and it kicked back into rhythm.

  Turning away, Ric palmed his nape, wondering what the hell had happened. He kept a tight leash on his life, since he hadn’t had any control of his death. A simple kiss shouldn’t have hit him this hard. He’d indulged in decades of no-limits sex, the endless variety almost hiding the glaring fact that it was meaningless. Almost, but not quite.

  Maybe that was it. He was tired of the trivial, shallow connections. Tired of sex without substance.

  Synnove was a breath of fresh air. No, brighter, more life-giving. She was sunshine.

  Oh God, he missed sunshine.

  He shook himself. He didn’t need sunshine. He had his work, his home and his freedom. He calmed himself by touching the things that made his existence worthwhile. The warm, hand-buffed golden oak, the cool glass of graceful vases. His touch and gaze lingered longest over the faces in framed pictures, decades’ worth of friends.

  Reminders of all he stood to lose.

  A click spun him around. Had Synnove returned…?

  But a tall shadow filtered through the doorway, unseen except Ric knew what to look for.

  The assassin had come to visit him.

  Shadowy hands raised in pax. Wouldn’t stop the assassin if he wanted to kill. Ric knew that because the assassin had already beat the crap out of him a few dozen times.

  Ah, the good old days.

  Ric smiled. “Hello, Aiden.”

  “Nice party.” The shadow moved into the light, but it never seemed to make a difference with Aiden. Black hair, black eyes, black stubble on his square jaw, he was shadows from head to toe. Even his clothes, sleeveless T-shirt revealing dark bronze muscles, loose pants and soft-soled shoes, were all black to ensure that no matter what the lighting, he was as deep as the darkness from which he emerged. Hell, even a sense of dark menace clung to him like a shadow.

  All black. Including his near-permanent scowl.

  It was Ric’s mission in life to make Aiden smile. So far Ric had managed that feat twenty-two times over the decades. Only full smiles counted. “Thanks for patrolling the party in person. Sorry to make more work for you.”

  “You should be sorry, leaving your guests like that. Where have you—” Aiden’s nostrils flared. “No, you smell like you took a bath in estrogen. The question isn’t where, it’s what? What have you been up to?”

  “Kissing one woman to annoy another.”

  “You’re lying.”

  Ric wondered what gave him away. He’d lose less money to Aiden at poker. Of course the reason Ric had given Synnove, that he’d kissed her to make a statement to Camille, was a lie. He’d said that automatically to protect the real reason, the unacceptable reason—he wanted to kiss her. “How do you know?”

  “Your words say one thing, but your eyes another.”

  “And your words say you’re a pain in the ass, but your eyes say…wait, they say the same thing.”

  Those deadly lips quirked, but it wasn’t a full smile, so it didn’t count. “You’re very good at manipulation, my friend. But sometimes you wield lies like a sword. Beware lest the wrong people get cut.”

  “Good advice.” Ric scrubbed a hand over his face. He’d hurt Synnove, and was sorry for that. “Although in this case, maybe it’s for the best.” Dropping his hand, he began to pace. “The last thing a beautiful human female with her whole life ahead of her needs is to be in thrall to a vampire.”

  “Beautiful?” Black brows rose. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you apply that term to a female. In fact, I think it’s the first time I’ve heard you apply any term to a female other than ‘convenient’.”

  Ric stopped pacing to scowl. “You think you’re so funny.”

  “Just honest.” The eyebrows lowered. “You enthralled her?”

  Ric started moving again, slower, wandering around his sanctum, touching things. The velvety petals of fresh-cut flowers, as soft as Synnove’s skin. The freshly laundered bar towels, smelling of sunshine, like Synnove… “No, actually. She managed to turn my mental suggestion aside. Coupled with her—” luscious body, fiery-sweet taste, “—personality, it makes her quite compelling.”

  “Compelling. I see.” Though Aiden’s face was absolutely straight, Ric could hear the sarcasm.

  And the unspoken question. Compelling enough for Ric to care again?

  It was the last question Ric wanted to answer. He didn’t have a great track record when it came to young, beautiful females needing him. Especially the ones he wanted to protect most.

  So instead, he stopped behind his wet bar. “Want a drink?”

  “If you’re buying, sure.”

  Buying. Ric considered his well-stocked bar as he set out two heavy whiskey glasses. These were riches he’d never known as a child, growing up an orphan near Fort Dearborn. Even a single scrawny chicken would have been riches then.

  “Do you ever stop remembering it?” Aiden’s cool tones broke into Ric’s thoughts.

  Ric cocked his head. “Do you ever get tired of being omniscient?”

  �
��I’m not omniscient. I just read people very, very well.”

  “I’m not people.”

  “You know what I mean. You’re not that boy anymore, Ric. Not sleeping in whatever stable you can hide in, doing whatever menial chore you can to get food, not fighting dogs for table scraps.”

  Ric rubbed a thoughtful thumb over the deceptively plain bottle of fifty-year-old whiskey from the Isle of Islay. “I’ll always be that boy. Can we talk about something else?”

  “All right.” Aiden glided soundlessly to his side and accepted the glass he poured. “The testing of our boundaries has begun again. I was hoping Nosferatu’s last wave was the final one.”

  “Would’ve been nice. It’s Camille.”

  “Fuck me.” Aiden downed his drink in two large gulps.

  “Show a little more respect for the whiskey. But well said.” Ric grimaced. Two years ago they’d decided to stop hiding from Nosferatu, the unofficial vampire king of Chicago. They’d had a plan, but it didn’t include confronting Nosferatu’s best. Should have picked a different path.

  “Damned right we should have done it differently.” Aiden held his glass out for a refill.

  “Asshat mind-reader.” Ric poured a generous three fingers. “We had no choice. Nosferatu was onto us. You discovered that.” The assassin had expanded his repertoire over the years, taking to spying like a hawk took to hunting.

  “We could have run.” Aiden sipped this time.

  “Impossible. He’d have taken his revenge on my household. My humans are my friends. My family. I could never stand by while they were abused.”

  Aiden grunted. “The old fart does have an awful sort of creativity when it comes to torture. But I’m not sure we picked the right way to fight.” He shook his head. “Marketing and mirrors.”

  “Again, what choice did we have? The head of a veritable vampire mob versus two vampires? Besides, nobody’s better than me when it comes to image.”

  “Marketing and mirrors,” Aiden said again.

  “It lured them onto our turf, didn’t it? Gave us the advantage?” Ric had created an image to entice the vampire out of his power base in Chicago. Then Ric and Aiden set booby traps and mindfucks on all possible routes to Minnesota, triggered by vampires only. Unfortunately Nosferatu hadn’t bothered to show up himself—the old vampire did like to sit in the middle of his web—but his exploratory waves had all run home crying. Until Camille. “And now we know the new electrified windows work. Camille’s crew got zapped.”

  One corner of Aiden’s mouth crooked up. “They did indeed. Screamed like a bunch of prissy little girls.” The half-smile died. “Why’d you let her through?”

  “She declared pax. Said she wanted to talk about advertising. Since that involves the agency, I thought I’d better hear what she had to say.”

  Holiday Buzz was a public business so he and Aiden hadn’t electrified it. But they’d installed silver fixtures, lots of running water and garlic booby traps to make any invading vamps nice and sick.

  Now Camille, a top lieutenant, was here. The game had turned deadly.

  “So…” Aiden drank off his whiskey. “What did Nosferatu’s bitch want?”

  “Bitch?” Ric pursed his lips. “What do you call people you don’t like?”

  “Dead.”

  “Ah. She wanted marketing advice, if you can believe it. She didn’t mention my past—didn’t even seem to know you exist.” Ric paused. “Maybe Nosferatu didn’t send her.”

  “Please. He doesn’t let any of his puppets off their strings. He sent her, all right. But he hasn’t trusted her with the full story.” Aiden held out his glass.

  Ric covered the glass with a palm and leaned closer to his friend. “What’s eating you?”

  Aiden’s eyes held Ric’s. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  Ric’s shoulders tightened. Aiden’s bad feelings were never inconsequential, and never wrong. “Damn it.” He picked up the bottle and poured. “I don’t suppose it’s telling you anything specific?”

  “No.”

  “Well then. Shut the fuck up. I have enough to worry about.”

  “Your wish is my command.” Aiden sipped, seemingly nonchalant, but Ric’s shoulders tensed even more. With the assassin you never saw the killing stroke coming. Sure enough, Aiden said, “So, you kissed Camille to annoy Beautiful?”

  “Other way around. But you knew that.”

  “Hmm.” A mischievous almost-smile flirted with Aiden’s lips. “Then aren’t you worried Camille will do a Wicked Queen on Sleeping Beauty?”

  “Fuck me.” Ric threw his glass into a paneled wall. He took a couple controlled breaths before turning back to Aiden. “Camille’s too self-absorbed to consider any woman could measure up to her, much less beat her. Still…well.”

  “Do you want me to make sure Beautiful is all right?”

  “Her name’s Synnove. It means sun gift.” Ric took another controlled breath. “Like your name means annoying wiseass. If she’s threatened, it’s my fault. I’ll take care of it.” It wouldn’t hurt to make sure that Synnove had made it out of his building all right. That she was safe.

  The thought of going after her, of seeing her again, blew all his careful breaths out the window. He inhaled sharply, oxygen drilling his chest.

  “Okay, then,” Aiden said with a chuckle. “See you later.”

  Ric was already out the door.

  Chapter Four

  I ducked Little’s grab—only to get snared by his second. His hands cinched a tourniquet on my arm, his eyes were daggers and his wattle was shaking. If that weren’t clue enough to his mood, his teeth were grinding so hard he was doing his own root canals.

  I wanted to leave, but I wanted to do it without triggering Chickengeddon. “Excuse me,” I said politely. “Please let me by.” I tried to edge past him.

  He stalked off, dragging me with him.

  I could have twisted out of his hold, but my body was still trembling from Holiday’s kiss and I wanted to resolve this civilly. Besides, the skyscraper shoes and clutching at Holiday’s jacket hobbled my technique.

  Chicken Little yanked me into a small room with washer, dryer and wire wall racks. He spun me inside and released me to slam the door shut, then leaned against it.

  Briefly I pinched the bridge of my nose. Trying to help my cousin, I’d gotten this. Yep. No good deed goes unpunished.

  “I can get you what you want, baby.” Little’s snarl rasped with a disturbing lecherousness. “You want Ric, I can get him.”

  Hard to believe. Holiday didn’t seem like a man to bow to pressure. “You don’t even know what I need him to do.”

  Little laughed, not nice. “Women only want two things from Ric, advertising or sex. Usually both.”

  My face heated. “I came for the advertising.” What else I’d gotten, well, Little didn’t need to hear. “Why would Holiday do what you want?”

  Little puffed out his scrawny chest. “I’m his partner.”

  “Please.” I barely managed to keep my disbelief from extending the word into a derogatory two syllables. “Holiday Buzz isn’t a partnership.”

  “Not in the papers of incorporation sense, but I’m Ric’s senior VP. I’m in on all the decisions. I’ll be CEO soon. I already run the company when he’s away.”

  “He doesn’t seem to be away a lot.”

  “What are you talking about? Ric travels all over the world for clients.”

  My turn to stare. “Then why won’t he come to Meiers Corners?”

  “My-ers what?”

  I shook my head impatiently. “A city near Chicago.”

  “Oh, that.” Little rolled his eyes. “He has a thing about Chicago. Won’t go within a hundred miles of the place.”

  “Really? Why not?”

  “Who knows? Who cares?”

  “I do, because that’s the job. Since you can’t make him do it, I might as well leave.” I reached past him for the knob.

  He grabbed my wrist and used i
t to push me back three steps. I barely kept myself from responding sharply—with a knee. Hadn’t he learned anything from the incident with the Piggies? He said, “Not so fast, baby. I can get him to take you on, don’t you worry about that. Worry about how you’ll pay me.”

  “Money? That’s the usual way.” I shook my wrist gently, trying to make him let go. I really didn’t want to turn the guy’s testicles black and blue.

  “When the other person looks like you? Please. You’ve got other things of much greater value.”

  I searched his face and did not like what I saw. I said softly, “Don’t go there.”

  He smirked. “You want Ric to take your job. I’ll get him to. If.” He raised himself on the balls of his feet, until we were nose-to-nose, the wash of alcohol breath almost overpowering. “You and I do the horizontal boogie.”

  Well. I guess that was better than the horizontal line dance.

  In case the alcohol fumes were as bad inside his skull as on the outside, I spelled it out. “I don’t sleep with every man I meet. I’m not that kind of woman.”

  He laughed. “Of course you are. Look at you!”

  I huffed. Dammit, there it was again. “Appearances can be deceiving.”

  “Sure they can. But not in your case, baby. You’re built for lovin’. How about a down payment?”

  He thrust fingers into my hair and laid one on me.

  My lips were still tingling from Ric’s, and at first the pressure and heat revved an already idling motor.

  Then he thrust his whiskey-saturated tongue down my throat. My motor cut off like a switch, click.

  “Stop,” I said, or more like “shlah” because he was a sloppy kisser and really getting into it. I let go of Holiday’s coat and wedged my hand between our mouths. “I said stop.”

  He nibbled my hand, with enough tongue to slime my fingers. Yuck. I yanked away and wiped my hand on my skirt; the instant I got it home, it was going into hot water and bleach.

  “You want it, baby.” He shoved the coat off my shoulders. “And I’m the man who can give it to you.” He snatched at my breast, thumbing the nipple through the thin lace of Twyla’s bra. Shocked, the poor thing leaped to attention.