Night Runner: Falling From The Light Part 2

"He wanted..." I began to shake. "...to reminisce about the old d-days. Said it was impossible to find g-good help anymore." He'd also requested a field trip to a business that, according to its cheerful Internet presence, was as bland as bland could be. I had to find something, though, because there was no way I was going to be the cause of more of Malcolm's pain.

But this wasn't the time to think about that. Using what little remained of my focus, I pushed myself upright and turned. Wrapping my arms around Mal's neck, I pulled his mouth down to mine.

He smelled like a cold winter day and tasted like spiced brandy, and I wanted nothing more than to tear his clothes off and fill myself with him. He shrugged out of his jacket while I navigated the complicated business of his b.u.t.tons.

"Do you have a bed in this cage?" I bit the side of his neck and he grabbed my a.s.s, lifting me until I wrapped my arms and legs around him. He found my mouth again as he carried me through the darkness and I squeaked when we dropped abruptly.

My left knee was wedged between him and the side of a chair while my right leg stretched over the opposite arm.

"My, what a small bed. However do you sleep in it?"

"Up," he murmured, light swirling in his half-lidded eyes.

I shook my head. "What up?"

Understanding dawned when he s.h.i.+fted and reached down to undo his pants. The brush of his hands against my bare center made me jerk. I gripped his shoulders and pulled myself up, rewarded when his lips closed around my nipple. Groaning, I slipped my hands into his hair as his clever tongue swirled and teased. My hands slid down his chest and he stilled momentarily. I kept moving, unable to stop, lightening my touch as I realized what I was feeling. My fingers traced and b.u.mped over jagged, ridged lines.

Those hadn't been there earlier.

"Mal?"

"It's nothing."

I shook my head, unable to speak as my throat closed up. Vampires repaired quickly and they could take a lot of damage. If these cuts had been nothing, they'd have already healed. And it hadn't been my imagination earlier. He wasn't warm-he was fever-hot.

He kissed me, hands cupping my face for a moment before they slid down the sides of my neck. "They'll be gone in an hour but I don't want to wait an hour."

He refused to show weakness around other vampires, which was fine-healthy, even. But it was just us.

"You should rest. Won't that help?"

"If I rest I'll have to think about it, and I don't want to think about it," he said fiercely. "Distract me. Please, let me take care of you."

It was the please, wrapped in need, in deep longing, that did it. I nodded, and his arms encircled me. He slid across the seat, releasing my trapped leg. It left me in a graceless position, straddling him with one leg dangling over the arm of the chair. But it was difficult to care. His power rippled as he slowly lowered me onto him.

He began to move, filling and stretching me, surging up as he slid me down. I leaned forward, bringing our bodies together in a way that made stars build behind my eyes. Touching his face, I traced his eyebrows and cheekbones, the soft curve of his lips and the hard ridges of his emerging fangs. I nipped at his lower lip, then kissed him carefully as my body coiled tighter and tighter. He moved us faster.

"Do something for me," he whispered, voice tight. I moaned my a.s.sent. His hand covered mine and slid it down between our bodies. I leaned forward in his arms and tipped myself over the edge.

Chapter Three.

We found the bed eventually, and at some point he lit a pair of fat, white candles. The plane finally reached smooth air and I dozed, sprawled over Malcolm, our legs entwined.

A change in the sound of the engines dragged me back to consciousness. I yawned, and Mal's hand played across my back while I stretched and rolled off of him. His skin was smooth and pale, and muscles rippled beneath the surface when I skimmed a hand over his stomach. If I could have stayed there for the rest of my life, I would have been somewhere so far beyond happy there wasn't even a name for it. But that wasn't how things worked in reality.

"We need to get up," he murmured. Neither of us moved right away.

"Where are we headed?"

"A casino."

"Oh, h.e.l.l yes. I'm so going to hit the blackjack table." I sat up and, when I finished rubbing sleep off of my face, found Malcolm staring at me. "What?"

"You might wait until you feel the place before you decide to gamble." He rose to dress and I watched him for a moment, admiring the casual strength of his body, the broad shoulders and dimples at the small of his back. Then I registered what he'd said.

"Until I feel it? What kind of a casino is this?"

"It's at a vampire resort. In a sovereign nation."

"I thought we were going to Arizona." I swung my legs over the side of the bed and wrapped the comforter around me.

"It's on tribal land. Each nation chooses their own rules for interacting with vampires."

"And this one's friendly?"

"As friendly as can be. The entire tribe is vampire. Has been for a hundred and fifty years." He opened a heavy-duty black trunk, one of six stacked along the wall, and handed me a set of clothes.

"I've got stuff in my backpack."

"You won't be able to camouflage yourself like you do when you work. Having a runner there would raise even more curiosity."

"More than what?"

He paused, idly stretching his light sweater this way and that in his hands. Then he looked up and, with his head still inclined, he seemed uncertain.

"You'll be with me."

"Right."

He shook his head and jerked his sweater on, then ran a hand through his hair. "I don't have a human stable. I don't have anyone who belongs to me. But you will. In their eyes you'll belong to me, and I attract a certain amount of attention."

"Mmm-hmm, on purpose." Where was he going with this?

"Not necessarily on purpose. How many vampires have you encountered who don't have a master?"

It took me a moment, and the realization cooled me. "You and Richard Abel."

"That's more than most vampires have encountered. I worked for Bronson because he's powerful. I don't have a hive to support and protect me, so I have to be selective in who I deal with and how."

"What he did to you-"

"Isn't the worst thing."

"Mal." I rubbed my eyes, angry and confused.

"I'm known to this crowd," he went on, like it was no big thing, "and I engage a persona when I'm among them. It's rooted in who I used to be, and I've embellished over the years. If they know me as a gambler, someone who doesn't have a lot of control or ambition, they won't suspect me capable of much else. It's helpful when it's just me." He made a restless gesture. "But it will mean that you need to look like... It's important that n.o.body takes an overt interest in you."

"I can't blend with vampires," I said.

"No, you can't." He shook his head, then nodded solemnly. "But you'll need to blend with feeders."

My stomach turned to lead. "My mother was a feeder," I said flatly.

"I know." His eyes were soft, apologetic.

"So I have to s.p.a.ce out regularly, and cover myself in scars?" I tilted my head. Did he not understand? "Do I need to lose twenty pounds and fret over how there's only enough food for two more meals, three if I skip one?"

"Sydney." He crossed the s.p.a.ce between us in an instant, and I flinched when he cupped my face. "If I had the choice, I wouldn't take you here at all. But Bronson's asked something of you, something that requires you to be here." He raised his eyebrows until I nodded confirmation. His eyes sparked. "Then this resort will be the safest place. And it's only temporary. Very temporary." His lips pressed against my forehead and I shook my head and pulled away from him. My eyes were hot, but I was years past crying about family.

"Fine, so I have to blend with feeders. What does that mean, to you?"

"You can do it however you choose, but it would be better if you avoid your regular clothes. They'll be expecting something different."

"And what kind of girl will they expect to see you with, Malcolm Kelly?" I smiled a brittle smile.

"Expensive. Sometimes gaudy. Definitely transitory."

"Uh-huh." I raised my eyebrows. I guess it was better than bimbo or showgirl. "Sounds like fun."

"Petr will take you to the hotel." He eyed me warily. "I sent a list before we departed, so he'll make arrangements for you to acquire everything you'll need."

Petr was human, small and bland on the outside, but some kind of master concierge for vampires on the inside. He was good with details and, for all I knew, he'd seen Mal with girls before. He'd know his type. As would a bunch of strange vampires. I swallowed bitterness and nerves I thought I'd moved past. Everybody had exes. Mal had been around for a while and he was gorgeous. It was stupid to think he hadn't dated...or maintained willing feeders. He'd probably been with tons of girls. Expensive girls.

My lip curled and I dropped my head to hide it. The clothes he'd handed me were all black and white. No candy colors or sequins or cutaway parts or anything. I'd done a lot of things I hadn't particularly enjoyed while working around vampires. Dressing really nicely shouldn't have felt like a sacrifice. In a way it was just another job. I respected their rules and wore my disguises, and in return they left me alone. That was a fair trade. So why did the arrangement he was proposing make me feel so rotten?

"I think I can manage."

"Thank you." He knelt, laying his arms tight against my thighs until I met his gaze squarely.

"If you'd been able to control this plan..." But he was shaking his head before I'd gotten the question out.

"You'd be a thousand miles away, wearing one of those disintegrating rock band T-s.h.i.+rts, and you'd be happy."

He dipped his chin when I stroked his hair, and a smile forced its way through my tense frown when he made a soft sound of contentment.

"I am happy," I said. When he looked up, squinting in disbelief, I rolled my eyes. "All things considered. I wish there were fewer things to consider, but it's not so bad."

"Not so bad," he repeated, resting his forehead against my shoulder and nudging my hand until I began stroking again. "It shouldn't be comparative, happiness. You deserve more."

"So do you. We do things. Things happen to us. That's life. Who's happy all the time?"

The sound of the engines lowered further and the plane tilted as it circled, and those things that happened-or one, anyway-moved to the forefront of my mind.

Richard Abel had built himself up as a hatchet man for the Vasilievs, an old Russian family that had attempted to take Alaska from the Master. They'd attacked, publicly and violently. Bronson had responded with an iron fist. I imagined it like a movie, a bunch guys showing up with Tommy guns and shooting thousands of rounds into a house only for a bigger guy to kick the door down and stomp out with a couple of rocket launchers on his shoulders.

Coups and a.s.sa.s.sination attempts weren't rare in the vampire scheme of things, but there were few humans alive who'd been around for the last public attempt. After that, instead of migrating to his southern holding in Argentina when the seasons changed, Bronson had sent Malcolm. A master vampire in his prime didn't send people to manage his territories-too much chance of them gaining power or loyalty or whatever.

My hand slowed as I thought that through. But Malcolm didn't owe loyalty to anyone else-his maker being dead-and wasn't strong enough to challenge Bronson even if he'd wanted to take over his territory. When Bronson finally did land in the Southern Hemisphere, his peeps had fallen all over themselves to show loyalty. That appointment suddenly made more sense, except...

"What did Santiago think when Bronson sent a gambler down as his stand-in?" I asked. Malcolm bit my collarbone gently.

"That they'd been misinformed, to an extent. I haven't mingled much with Bronson's people. It's easy since they wouldn't gain anything by a.s.sociating with me, and I made a few capricious enough decisions that they were able to reconcile what they saw with my reputation."

"Why did Bronson stay in Alaska?" If masters had the option of migrating, staying in a territory through the summer was crazy rare. Alaska was the richer of his territories, as far as natural resources went, but it was obvious from our conversation that Bronson wasn't over the attack.

"While the coup was dismantled fairly quickly, the leaders weren't all killed. It's a vast state, with too many miles to search. But Bronson wanted every last one of them hunted down. He wanted to personally see them dispatched."

"Except Abel."

"He bolted after the head of the Vasilievs died. He had to flee south because no other master would shelter him."

Then Abel had sent mercenaries to take me out, which seemed more like a point of personal pride because the last time we'd met, I'd slashed his face and-with the aid of a timely explosion-escaped him.

"And Bronson didn't want Abel dead? After what he did?"

Mal raised his head. "They have a history. Abel once offered his services, but Bronson wasn't interested at the time. Abel needed security so he went to work for the Vasilievs, but he wasn't part of the original feud. Just a tool."

"A psychotic tool."

"That's not as much of a drawback for a vampire of Bronson's stature. The Master wants Abel to confirm that all the Vasilievs are dead."

Everything about this sounded awful. I'd been concerned when Mal was supposed to kill Abel. Capturing a snake alive was much worse. "And what does Abel want?"

"A new deal. Bronson is still, maybe more than ever, the strongest vampire in the Americas."

"Are you going to be safe, dealing with him?" I combed my fingers through his hair again.

"We have superior resources and more freedom of movement." He watched me through half-lidded amber eyes. "Plus, I have a better incentive to survive than he does."

"Anyone ever tell you you're charming?"

"They have, yes." He grinned, and d.a.m.n if my heart didn't skip a beat. "But I don't care what anybody else says."

"Aww."

"So what did he demand of you? How bad is it?"

"On a scale of picnic to cl.u.s.terf.u.c.k, it's like a 'c'mon, man.'" I shrugged. "He asked me to check out Goya, the company that makes Radia. And I was not keeping it from you. I simply hadn't gotten around to telling you yet."

"Uh-huh." Mal's eyes narrowed.