I’ll Be Slaying You Read online

  What are you?

  Chance stared back at her. Gazed too deeply with those smoky eyes. “I’m the man who had her back, twice, when you weren’t anywhere around.”

  “Dee doesn’t need anyone to watch her. The woman’s a freaking machine—”

  “Everyone needs backup.” His fingers brushed over her cheek. Her breath caught.

  “Aw, Dee…shit,” Jude muttered.

  Her shoulders snapped up. She wouldn’t be weak. Not in front of Jude. He’d trained her. Walked with her on the first mission.

  Not in front of him. “We had a visitor.” Now she was the one to back away. Because that soft touch wasn’t something she could handle.

  Hard, wild, and rough—yeah, that was more her style.

  Chase’s fingers fisted, then fell.

  “And you noticed the…ah…visitor with your tongue down this guy’s—”

  “I’ve got a name. It’s Simon Chase.”

  “—throat?”

  She stared at Jude. Long and hard and waited until his blue gaze dropped. That was better. “The visit came first. Some sweet little ball of fluff sporting bite marks on her neck.”

  Jude sucked in a sharp breath. “A lure?”

  “No.” Well, maybe. Vamps were known to use sexy women to draw in other prey. Worked wonders for them. Most folks were always attracted to a pretty package. You followed the package, and found hell waiting with open fangs. “She was sent to deliver a message to me.”

  “Huh.”

  Chase glanced between them. “Why send the woman? I mean, if you think a vampire sent her—”

  She held up her unused stake. “They knew I wouldn’t hurt her.” Much.

  “What did she say?” Jude asked.

  Dee hesitated.

  Chase didn’t. “The bitch told Dee she was going to die.”

  Well, so much for subtle.

  “Sonofabitch.”

  That pretty much summed things up nicely.

  “And you let her get away?” Jude growled. A very deep, rumbling growl. His beast had to be close.

  “I got distracted.” The six foot three, two-hundred-pound distraction shifted beside her. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Chase murmured.

  Her gaze jerked to his.

  And the bastard smiled at her.

  Trouble. Why, why did trouble always find her? And why did this trouble have to be so sexy?

  Chapter 3

  Dee awoke screaming, her skin slickened with sweat and her drumming heartbeat rattling her chest.

  It took her a minute to banish the blood. To choke back the fear.

  So long ago, but the dreams still came.

  Dee jumped out of bed. The neon digits of her clock glowed too brightly. Four-oh-eight. She’d slept for an hour.

  Shit.

  Her T-shirt clung to her body, damp and too confining. Every muscle in her body quivered. Her skin burned and her belly knotted.

  Damn dreams.

  Why tonight? Why? It had been over three months since the last bout, and just when she’d thought she was finally mastering the demons, they’d come sneaking back.

  She paced across the room. No way would she be going back to sleep. She couldn’t.

  Adrenaline had her walking faster, faster.

  Get out.

  The apartment was too small. Too hot in the summer. Dee shoved open the balcony doors, but the air outside was even thicker, even hotter.

  Her air conditioner droned with a low hum. Not doing her a damn bit of good.

  Love you, Sandra Dee.

  Her eyes squeezed shut. Hell, no. She wasn’t doing this. Not again.

  Sirens wailed in the distance. There was always trouble somewhere in this city. Human killers. Supernatural monsters. Never any peace. Not for her, not anywhere.

  No peace, but, maybe—

  Maybe there was something else she could have. For just a little while.

  Her eyes opened. She turned around, fumbled for the card she’d tossed on her nightstand. Her fingers trembled when she touched the edge.

  The minute she’d come home, she’d balled up the card and tossed it into the garbage can.

  Then she’d dug it out. Stupid. But—

  But her heart wasn’t slowing down. Her skin was burning hot, and when she thought of Simon, she pictured him and stopped seeing the blood.

  Dee was so tired of the blood.

  A name and a number were typed in black letters across the white card. No address.

  She couldn’t call him now. No way. Only one reason a woman called a man at this hour.

  Yeah, one reason.

  A hard breath shook her chest. Dee realized she could still taste him. Still feel the press of his lips against hers. The brush of his tongue.

  He might not be alone. He probably wasn’t. A guy like him, oozing sex, he’d probably snapped his fingers and—

  She put the card down. For an instant, she thought she saw red staining her fingers.

  No, no, just a memory.

  Wasn’t it?

  Shaking her head, she walked toward the shower. A nice, cold shower, that was what she needed.

  Or him.

  Fuck. Dee grabbed the phone. Dialed before she could stop herself. One ring. Stupid. You can’t do this. Two. Are you crazy? You can’t. Three.

  “Night Watch.” The private security line for the team. The one they called when they needed Intel, twenty-four-seven.

  “Grace? It’s Dee. Did you—did you run that check for me?” Because she was a suspicious bitch, always would be.

  A faint hum on the line, then…“Finished it earlier tonight. You want me to fax over the file?”

  “Go ahead and give me a quick and dirty rundown.” Because she had to know, right now, before she made a deadly mistake. “And then send over the paperwork.” She’d want to know every detail later. That was her way.

  “Simon Lawrence Chase.” Dee’s fingers tightened around the phone when Grace began. So she ran background checks on all her potential lovers, what was wrong with that? A woman had to be safe. These days, you never knew what you were dragging home.

  “Age thirty-four.” Really? It’d been so hard to judge his age, he could have been younger or—“Born in New Orleans, he left when he decided to be all he could be.” Military? With that long hair?

  “He’s not still serving.” Dee was definite on that.

  “No. Looks like he went Merc for a while,” Grace said.

  Merc. Mercenary. Yeah, she could see that. A brief hesitation, then she asked the most important question, “Any sign he’s more than human?”

  “Negative.”

  Her shoulders relaxed. She’d had a demon lover once or twice. They weren’t anything to complain about, for sure, they’d been phenomenal in the sack, but a human—

  I can control him.

  “There’s…something else, though, Dee. Something you should know.”

  Aw, hell. Always something to spoil her party. “What is it?”

  “The records show his parents were killed a few years back. It went down as a B and E gone bad, but…”

  “But you’re telling me it wasn’t a breaking and entering? It was more?” Often was.

  “Jewelry was snatched, the TVs and a computer were missing, and the parents, Janice and Ned Chase had their throats slit.”

  A slit throat. The easiest way to cover a vamp attack.

  “I made a call to a coroner I know down in New Orleans.” One of the reasons Grace was so good at Intel—the woman had connections everywhere. “Seems there wasn’t enough blood at the scene to match the severity of the wounds.”

  Because the parasites had drained them dry. Huh. No wonder the guy knew so much about vampires.

  Personal experience.

  Just like me. “Thanks, Grace. I owe you.”

  Silence, then very softly, “No, you don’t.”

  The call ended and Dee clenched the phone tight. He’d passed the sc
reen, and his past was as screwed up as her own.

  She swallowed. He was safe.

  Or as safe as a lover could be for her.

  Her fingers dialed quickly. There was no hesitation this time. No stupid voice whispering in her mind, no—

  “Dee.”

  Just that, her name. Breathed with need. With the same lust that was tightening her nipples and making her sex clench.

  Oh, boy. Her own breath came out in a hard rush. Course he would have known she was calling. In this techno crazy age, her name would have appeared instantly on his caller ID. No backing out now.

  “Where are you?” He asked, a dark demand.

  She pulled at her shirt, trying to break it away from her hot flesh. “My place.”

  “What do you want, Sandra Dee?”

  Her sex quivered. Just that voice, whispering to her in the dark.

  He knew what she wanted. Had to know. “Are you alone?” Probably not. Probably had some stacked bimbo crawling all over him.

  “What do you want?” A sensual demand.

  “You.” She cleared her throat. “Apartment B-6, Groves Terrace.”

  His breath rushed over the line.

  Then, click.

  She knew he was coming.

  Dee hung up the phone and paced to the edge of the bed. She lifted the mattress and checked to make sure her gun was close. She always kept her weapons close.

  He was coming.

  Her gaze darted to her hands. No blood. This time.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck—talk about some serious bad timing. Simon jumped out of his Mustang and stared up at the apartment on the left, the one with the white terrace and the French doors open on the second floor balcony.

  Dee.

  She’d moved fast. Faster than he’d expected, but he wasn’t about to turn away from her. If the lady wanted him, she’d get him.

  Screw the dawn.

  They had an hour. At least. He’d take more time later. Now, now he’d give her what she wanted.

  And make her need him more. Because soon, she’d have to need him more than she’d ever needed anyone. Need him enough to turn away from everything and everyone she knew.

  Simon bounded up the flight of stairs. He raised his hand to pound on the door.

  Dee wrenched open the door. She stood there, clad in a thin T-shirt that cupped her breasts, a T-shirt that barely skimmed the tops of her pale thighs, and she stared at him with those dark, wide eyes.

  Simon tried to jerk his tongue back inside his mouth. “Uh, Sandra—”

  “Dee.” She grabbed him. Her fingers fisted around the front of his shirt, and she jerked him inside.

  “Ah, what’s the rush—”

  “Don’t want the neighbors to see.”

  What? She had neighbors who were awake at four thirty in the morning?

  And since when was he the woman’s dirty little secret?

  “I don’t want forever.”

  His eyes widened at that. Couldn’t help it.

  “I don’t want you to tell me that you love me. I don’t want lies or promises that you won’t keep.”

  He kicked the door shut behind him. Stared down at her. No bra. Panties? His nostrils flared. Yeah, but they were wet.

  Fuck.

  She’d said she wanted him and she did, no denying her body’s response, but even before her lips parted, he knew she was going to say—

  “I just want to forget.”

  Yes, he’d known she would say that, because he knew her. Know your enemy.

  But Dee wasn’t his enemy. She was—

  She stepped away. Caught the edge of her T-shirt and tossed it to the floor.

  His cock jerked against the zipper of his jeans. Damn. Small breasts, but perfect. Round, with light brown nipples. Tight nipples, ready for his mouth and—

  The couch was behind her. He caught her in his arms. Swept her back and dropped her onto the cushions. Then he followed and took a nipple into his mouth because he had to taste. To take.

  Time was running out.

  His lips closed around the peak and his tongue laved her. Her moan filled his ears and her hips thrust up against him. The woman’s arousal flooded his nostrils. Rich, wet cream.

  The edge of his teeth pressed against her flesh and she shivered. Not fear, no, not even close.

  Damn her. Damn her.

  He kissed his way across her chest. The faint ridges of scar tissue pressed against his mouth. Long, thin lines. Light white now because Sandra Dee was a fast healer.

  She could have died.

  He knew about the attack. He’d done his research, too.

  He caught her other nipple. Sucked her with tongue and lips. Her fingers clenched against his shirt, jerked it up, and then she touched his flesh. Hot, fast fingers that skated over him.

  He rocked against her, driving the fully erect length of his cock against her sex. Dee’s legs were open, spread, and when he’d lowered her onto the couch, he’d pushed between them.

  The better to play.

  The better to torture himself.

  “Lose the jeans,” she ordered, her voice a husky rasp, and her fingers were on his stomach, sliding down, aiming for the button of his jeans.

  No.

  He caught her hands. “You’re not calling the shots here, babe.”

  Her eyes were wide, so brown and deep, but burning with a hungry fire. Her lips had parted—

  He kissed her. Drove his tongue deep inside and tasted the wild honey and spice that was Dee. Sweet and wild—the perfect flavor for his little vampire slayer.

  The dark hunger built within him. Feeding the lust that he chained back. Tempting, tempting so much…

  Her tongue swiped against his. Give her what she wants.

  No, no, she didn’t even know what she wanted. Not really.

  Not yet.

  He tore his mouth from hers and tried to ignore the spreading darkness within.

  Dawn comes.

  He licked her neck. Sweet flesh. Her pulse pounded against his mouth. Fast with excitement. Bursting with life.

  Testing now, he let his teeth score her flesh.

  She jerked, but didn’t fight. He chained her hands over her head, caught her wrists and held them against the couch with his left hand.

  Dee probably thought she could break away from him at any time.

  The lady didn’t know how wrong she was.

  She should have known better than to invite him inside. Now he held the power and she didn’t even realize it.

  His teeth wanted to press harder into her skin. Part of him wanted her to know the danger.

  His right hand trailed down her body. Soft flesh, covering a finely muscled body. Dee was a fighter, no denying it or the marks of the past that scarred her pale skin.

  His fingers paused over her belly. Flat and smooth.

  His mouth opened wider.

  Her hands jerked free in an instant. Hadn’t expected that. She shoved against him, once, hard.

  Simon raised up and stared down at her. So many lights were on in her house. Lights against the dark.

  Dawn was coming.

  “Don’t play the vamp game on me. That shit doesn’t get me off.”

  Didn’t it?

  “And it sure as hell can’t work for you.”

  Ah, so she’d already done her research on him. That meant he had to let Grace go free.

  Pity.

  He could have used her services again.

  “If you can’t deliver, get the hell out.”

  Cold. Hard. Just what he’d expect from a hunter like her.

  But her eyes were wild. Not just with lust but with fear. Her lips trembled and he knew, better than others, what demons rode her.

  “I’m not going any place.” Not yet.

  Fuck the dawn.

  Forget.

  He’d make her forget all right. And make her always remember him and what he could give to her.

  His fingers caught the edge of her panties. Plain whit
e cotton. Serviceable. The panties shouldn’t have been sexy. On her, they were.

  He eased down, lowering his head, and kissed her through the fabric. Her hips shot up at the sensual touch.

  “Easy.” His eyes lifted to hers. “Trust me.”

  I can’t. He could read the words on her face though she didn’t speak a word.

  “You’ll have to,” he said and meant it. Sooner or later, there would be no choice.

  He licked his lips and knew he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. His cock was nearly bursting, so full he hurt, and the woman who’d crept into his mind and twisted his fantasies into nightmares quivered beneath him. His to pleasure.

  His.

  For the moment, anyway.

  Her scent was so much richer now and the hunger inside had only grown stronger. His teeth caught the band of elastic. He jerked his head and the fabric tore.

  “Chase!”

  His head shot up. “Simon.” No distance here. No walls. He wouldn’t allow them.

  His fingers ripped away the torn panties and tossed them across the room. Then he touched her. Easing his fingers into the blond curls between her legs, he found her plump, wet, and hot.

  Just the way he liked a woman.

  Her breath hissed out when he touched her clit. A hard press with his thumb then a slow caress with his fingers. He’d learned long ago how to pleasure a woman. How to make her moan and beg. How to make her scream.

  He wanted Dee to scream for him.

  His index finger found her opening. Pushed inside. Tight. Sweat beaded on his brow. So tight.

  The back of his zipper was going to be permanently indented on his dick at this rate.

  Another finger thrust inside and stretched her. Dee’s neck arched.

  Don’t tempt.

  His fingers wrapped around her thighs, and he opened her even wider to his touch and his stare.

  To his mouth.

  Pink flesh, moist and waiting.

  His lips touched her first. A light caress. Gentle and easy.

  “Simon, more!” No gentle and easy command there.

  His tongue swiped over her clit and she jolted. His fingers tightened around her thighs, clamping down harder and he pulled her flush against his mouth.

  He took.

  His tongue tasted, licked. His mouth worked the tight button of her desire. He felt her stiffen, felt the coil of her muscles, and he learned what she liked.