Chapter 18

Silver

A deathly silence shrouds the room. I hear the tick of my bedside clock, the hum of a car engine running on the street outside. Hard to believe I’d been growing anxious about explaining Jenna Gold. I gape at him. The soft-green eyes and their forest of dark lashes look the same as they always have. The tenderness is there too, which is why I hadn’t believed that he played me until I showed up at his flat. Yet everything is shifting, the whole of our history rearranging itself in my head. The moments we shared, the things we said, all switching angles and unraveling, becoming tarnished with murky doubt.

“Are you kidding me?” I say at last.

He shakes his head, looking as sad as he did that night on the ship when he told me about his family. “I wish I were. Silver—”

“So, those times you showed up here, that was to glamour me?”

He holds up his hands. “No. I mean, yes, but I never would have gone through with it. I wanted to see you again. I hadn’t stopped thinking about you.”

A memory surfaces of him grabbing my arm as I stormed past him that night after we were at Vera’s. The way his eyes changed like a cat’s and I couldn’t look away.

I leap off the bed. “You bastard. I bet you were going to glamour me all along, just thought you’d get a bit of sex out of it first.”

“No,” he says, standing up, running fingers frantically through his thick, dark hair. “It wasn’t like that. Silver, I’m crazy about you. I’ve never felt this way before, not about anyone. These past few days—”

“Yes,” I interrupt, my heart pounding. “Let’s not forget these past few days.” My nostrils flare, anger coursing through my veins like fire. “If you’re so crazy about me, where have you been?”

He takes a step closer, his green eyes rounded, tiny flecks at the centers shimmering like gold. “The morning after I left you, I went home to find Anastasia in my flat. She could tell I’d been with a woman. I tried to lie, to say it was a one-night stand, but she didn’t believe me. She knew I was in love.”

The fire in my veins freezes, my heart clenching at the words. What did he just say?

“She also figured out Ronin didn’t know about it. Ancients are even more sensitive to body language than ordinary vampires. She made the point that if I ever lost his protection, she would be free to kill me. I panicked. I was worried she would trace me back to you, report it to Ronin. I figured if I left you alone for a while, she would think she’d made a mistake.”

“So you switched your phone off and made out like you were dead,” I say, making a mini round of applause. “Great choice. How about calling? Or telling me you were going out of town? At least I wouldn’t have been left wondering.”

“I almost rang you. I wanted to tell you everything, but I was afraid I’d lead her right to you. I didn’t want to drag you into all this. Of course, you managed to do that anyway. All by yourself.”

My mouth drops open so wide it feels like my jaw is dislocated. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on, Jenna Gold, why bother to deny it? You’re working for the police. How much have you told them? It’s funny. I never had you pegged for a snitch.”

I cross the carpet and slap him across the face as hard as I can, my hand stinging as it catches on the bristly skin of his jaw. “I’m no snitch, asshole. I’m doing it becau—”

But before I finish the sentence, he’s on me, his mouth crashing down on mine, rough hands raking through my hair, gripping the back of my head as he slides his tongue between my lips.

The kiss is violent, bruising, and yet I respond instantly—anger and tension leaking away, my body boneless in his arms as he assaults my mouth with his. I snatch handfuls of thick hair in my fists, our tongues thrusting in frenzied rhythm, animal groans of pleasure escaping my throat.

Although seconds ago we were fighting, the reasons seem suddenly muted, dulled. Women in trench coats, evil vampires, even the thought of my mother isn’t enough to dampen the lust raging through me like an insatiable inferno.

“I want you,” I say, panting, attempting the impossible feat of removing his shirt without taking my tongue out of his mouth.

He moans, shoving a hand under the oversized T-shirt I’m wearing and cupping a breast, circling his thumb around a puckered nipple. I fumble with his belt with shaking hands as he pinches the hard tips, abandoning the effort when sharp shocks of arousal zip straight to the throbbing spot between my legs.

“Please,” I say. “Logan, please.”

He stops, chest heaving, a bead of sweat clinging to his top lip as his hand drifts down to rest on my ass. “Aren’t we supposed to be fighting?” His voice is so crackly with lust he could be at the other end of a bad phone line.

“Yes, we are,” I say between ragged breaths. “This doesn’t mean anything. I still hate your guts. Now for fuck’s sake, fuck me.”

His green eyes flash, and then I feel his fingers at the edge of my T-shirt. He yanks it up, over my head, before tearing off his own.

“Take those off,” I say, pointing with a trembling hand at his jeans.

He smiles, unbuttoning them slowly, as if he’s enjoying making me wait. “Have you always been this demanding?”

“Shut up,” I snap. “I don’t want to hear your stupid Irish voice.”

His brows shoot skyward as his jeans pool around his ankles, and my gaze jumps straight to the thick hard-on springing from his jeans.

He looks down at the twitching length and smirks, dimples flashing, staring up at me through spidery lashes. “I think someone’s missed you.”

I push my knickers over my hips, kicking them off my ankles. “I said, shut up.”

Like magnets, we collide midair, kissing and tearing at each other like it’s been years since we had sex. I claw at his back with my nails, digging into satiny, muscled shoulders as he pushes me backward against the wall, his fingers probing the wet heat between my legs, rubbing at my swollen nub, and turning my legs to mush. I open my eyes to see him staring at me—hair, damp with rain, falling across his face, green eyes blazing, lips curled into a half smile. Whatever he’s done in the past, whoever he works for, I know I’ll never have it like this with anyone else. Ever.

My breathing is labored as a crest of pleasure builds. Our gazes still locked, he pushes a finger inside me, swirling it around my slick walls until my legs almost give out. I wonder why he isn’t saying something dirty to go with it like he usually does, but of course, I told him to shut up. I’m my own worst enemy a lot of the time.

Leaning forward, he takes my bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently, scraping his stubble on my chin. The delicious pain combined with the finger pumping in and out of my slippery core is too much. My whole body shudders, my breath sticking in my throat as I give out around him.

Before I can stop it, I’m shouting his name. “Logan!”

He smiles, staring into my eyes and bringing soaked fingers to his lips, licking them and moaning. It’s quite possibly the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

“Turn around,” he growls, reaching down and grabbing my wrists.

I do as I’m told for once. I don’t think I’ll ever see my pink-and-gray floral wallpaper in quite the same way again. He pins my hands flat to the wall, his voice gravelly. “Leave them there. Don’t move them.”

I feel his erection pressing into my back, a hand slide up over my tummy, brushing lightly over nipples so hard they threaten to bore holes through the plaster. His lips travel slowly across a shoulder blade, hair tickling the nape of my neck as he parts my thighs, positioning his stiff, velvety erection at my slick entrance before thrusting into me.

I cry out, my hands balling into fists as he moves deeper, his shaft swelling, hitting my sensitive spot, my body liquefying as I rise and fall around him.

Time stands still. My only thoughts are of the throaty grunts of pleasure next to my ear, the delicious rub of stomach muscles on my back as he thrusts into me over and over again.

He wedges his head between my shoulder and jaw, stubble scraping my neck. “Silver,” he whispers. “Oh God, Silver, I’m yours.”

Hearing those words, feeling the rasp of his jaw on my skin tips me over the edge. My hands drop from the wall, and he catches them, his length jerking inside me, our bodies shuddering as wave after wave of ecstasy rolls over us.

He hasn’t bitten me, and yet I feel detached, as if I’m floating on the ceiling. My eyes are closed, my trembling thighs still parted around him. His sweaty forehead rests on my shoulder as if he’s collapsed.

Finally, he says, “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

When my breathing slows and the feeling in my legs returns, I push him away and turn around, covering my breasts. “No,” I say, still panting. “Far from it.” I cross quickly to the cupboard in the corner of the room and drag out a fleece throw, wrapping it mummy style around my body, tucking the edges in under my arms.

“Well, that should keep me out,” he murmurs, as my bare skin disappears.

“Stop it,” I say, glaring at him, trying to keep my eyes firmly on his face. Despite my efforts, I can’t help but gape at his beautiful naked body—planes of silken muscles rippling his chest and arms, slender hips, the semierect manhood bobbing between an explosion of dark, wiry hair. How can anyone stay mad at a man who looks like this? I narrow my eyes. “You may physically induce a primal reaction in me, Logan, but you still disgust me.”

I shuffle back to the bed penguin style, the tight blanket restricting my movements. Despite the drama and sex, the moment is a shade comical. Our eyes meet and a smile touches the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t you dare smile,” I threaten, glowering at him.

He tilts his head to one side, watching me as if I’m a puzzle he can’t solve. “I think I love you.”

The words knock me off-kilter. My heart batters my rib cage. “Oh please,” I mumble as I climb back onto the bed.

Once again, my anger dissolves, fear scrambling to take its place. Because what if he means it? Even crazier—what if I feel the same way? A hot, red flush rises up my neck.

“I’m helping the police because of my mother.” The words pour out like water from a hose. “I didn’t know for sure until I spoke to my dad the other night, but she was apparently involved with a vampire once.”

Logan blinks as if waking from a dream. He dips down to retrieve his jeans from the carpet. “I had no idea, Silver. I’m sorry.”

“The police said if I helped them, it might lead to them reopening the case. I was only going to give them details from other vampires, but then last night after I saw that blond at your apartment…”

“You told them? The things I told you?”

I nod, not meeting his eye. “I was angry.”

Sighing, he sits beside me. “I should have been honest with you from the start.”

Oddly enough, I feel far more bothered by this Collette person than his revelation about a vampire overlord. “How do I know you’re telling the truth about that girl leaving your building?” I ask in a fragile voice.

He looks me directly in the eye. “You know how I feel about you, Silver,” he murmurs.

My heart flutters and I look away. “I guess it doesn’t matter now anyway.” I feel his gaze drilling into me. Holding my breath, I ask, “Do you know a vampire named Stephen Clegg?”

I turn back to see a cloud of confusion set in his features. “How do you know that name?”

“He was the vampire my mother knew when she was young.”

His face slackens. Dad’s words vibrate through my head: He treated her badly—physically and mentally. She’d met him when she was quite young, about fifteen.

“Stephen Clegg was turned with me.”

“Wait, you mean he was one of the convicts?”

He nods. “I never found out why. He was too slick to reveal much about himself.”

“What was he like?” I ask, my throat tight, palms beginning to sweat and shake under the blanket. After all these years, I’m finally about to get some answers.

“He was the most charming guy you’ll ever meet.” He pauses. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“Yes,” I say. “I need to know.”

He sighs. “Most of us in the house at that time were from poor backgrounds, but Clegg was well-educated. He used to boast his father was an earl, that he was the bastard offspring of a dalliance with a parlor maid. The earl apparently footed the bill for private schooling, provided him a small income. If it was true, it didn’t do much good. Stephen was into every vice going. Superficially, he had all the markings of a gentleman, but that’s where it ended. His real nature was far from gentlemanly.”

“Go on,” I urge, soaking up every word.

“He was sharp—witty but also manipulative. Women loved him. He had that way of making them feel special. He was instinctive when it came to females, always targeting the weak and vulnerable. I think he got a sick pleasure from having a woman completely at his mercy. Of course, he must’ve been that way before he turned, but like I told you before, becoming a vampire can heighten a personality trait. Sometimes, I even fancied Anastasia was under his spell. He was a favorite of hers, of course. She had him in her bed most nights. I guess that’s also why I never liked him.”

“Did you ever sleep with Anastasia?” I ask suddenly, only half wanting an answer.

His green eyes flash. “Don’t ask me that, Silver.”

“Did you?”

He sighs, fiddling with the duvet cover. “On a couple of occasions. Most of the other vampires were begging for it, but to me, she was repugnant—the most repulsive creature on earth. Needless to say, she enjoyed toying with me. I hadn’t had a lot of experience with women at that point. I was a challenge to her.”

“Were you a virgin?”

“Not a virgin, no, but I didn’t like to use women in that way unless I was serious about them. I lost my virginity in Ireland, to a woman named Bertha Watson.”

Jealousy kicks me hard in the stomach. “So this Bertha was your girlfriend?”

A brief smirk flits across his face. “Why? Are you jealous? No, I wouldn’t call her a girlfriend. She was a lot older than me. But she was kind and we were fond of each other for a while. I’m grateful to her for showing me that side of sex. There was none of that when Anastasia finally got her claws into me.”

I feel a twinge of empathy, the same as I did that night when we sat up in the crow’s nest on the prison hulk. Except this time, I don’t hold his hand. “Tell me about Clegg, about how he was with women.”

“Clegg had women everywhere. Some of them even knew what he was. He fed on them regularly, but his real delight was glamouring them. For men like him, it’s always about control.”

“Do you think that’s what happened to my mother?”

He places a tentative hand on my ankle, his fingers rubbing circles into my skin. I pretend not to notice, waiting as I am with bated breath for his answer.

“Possibly, though that most likely came later, after he’d worked his charms on her.”

The knots in my stomach tighten as I imagine her—young and afraid. “You said he liked having them at his mercy. How?”

“Rich widows were a favorite with Stephen, those or comfortably off spinsters. He charmed his way into their beds and hearts, and afterward, he would humiliate them, take their money, taunt them.” There’s a pause. “I’m not sure this will be easy for you to hear, but he used to beat them. He got a kick out of it. If you want me to get all Freudian, I don’t think he ever forgave his mother for his illegitimate start in life.”

I’m speechless, a lump the size of a boulder forming in my throat. A tear escapes, trickling over my cheek, and Logan is beside me, brushing it aside with his thumb.

“Where is he now?” I ask in a small voice.

Logan holds my gaze. “Dead.”

“How?” I ask, wide-eyed. “When?”

“I don’t know the details—who, when, why. It happened well over a decade ago.”

We lapse into quiet.

“Will you tell the police?” Logan asks.

I shrug. “If he’s dead, there isn’t much point.” Nausea twists my gut as I remember the other dead vampire—Gerhard’s headless, dusty corpse lying at my feet.

“What will happen now? With Gerhard and the police? They’ll find his body surely, and if it gets back to your boss, he’ll know who he was on a date with. He’ll know it’s you.”

I’ve seen Logan look sad before, nervous, but the flash of fear behind his eyes is entirely new. He swallows, the Adam’s apple in his throat bobbing. “I don’t know, Silver,” he says as if speaking from far away. “I just don’t know.” He squeezes my hand through the blanket. “Would it be crazy if I said I don’t regret any of it?”

“Killing Gerhard?”

“Meeting you.”

I inhale sharply. “What would you have done if we’d never met New Year’s Eve? If you’d just showed up that night after my date with Nathaniel to glamour me?”

He reaches over, tucking hair behind my ear in what has become a familiar gesture. The fight has left me. I let him do it, rubbing my cheek against his long, tapered fingers like a cat.

“It didn’t matter when we met, Silver. I fell for you. I mean, how could I not?”

A smile twitches at the corner of my mouth. “I suppose I am sort of irresistible. Wait a second, how do I know you haven’t already glamoured me? Maybe you’ve forced me to find you sexy.”

He quirks a brow, a devious spark in his eye. “Please, with this body, there’s no need. You saw the effect I had on Collette.”

I smack his shoulder. “Too soon for jokes, and by the way, her shoes are tacky.”

“I don’t recall paying too much attention to her footwear the night we—” He stops when he feels my death glare boring through him like a laser and smirks. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—you’re incredibly beautiful when you’re angry.”

I roll my eyes. “Ugh.”

He places a flat palm on my thigh, the heat of his hand burning through the blanket. “Angry and flushed from sex is my favorite look on you.”

Even though I want to curl into him, ditch the blanket by the side of the bed, and let him wrap his naked body around mine, I shove him away. “I need to take a shower. Alone.”

“What about your back? Someone needs to scrub your back, Silver. There’s still blood on it.”

I clamber off the bed. “I have a loofah with a long handle, so thanks, but no thanks.”

His voice drops dangerously low. “I have a long handle too.”

We both chuckle, dispelling some of the tension between us. For a moment, it feels like the way it was a couple of weeks ago—lighthearted banter and innuendo. I drag open a drawer and take out a clean bra and knickers. “Yes, I know all about your long handle, Logan Byrne, and I must concur, it does hit those hard-to-reach places.”

His grin widens, cutting into his dimples, and my heart sinks. Why can’t anything in life be simple?

“I’ll make you something to eat, then,” he says, standing up. “I could probably hear your stomach rumble from a mile away. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“You want me to leave?” He gives me a look like a puppy who’s about to get chased off the porch.

“Do what you like,” I say, chin in the air. “You always do anyway.” I shuffle in the blanket toward the bathroom door, and even though I don’t see it, I know he’s smiling.