Sunglasses at Night Page 12

  But the wicked part of him that had him purposely slicing his own tongue and feeding a few drops to Tabby through their kiss… that was pure possessive Para instincts and he hated himself for it.

  Too late to take it back. He wasn’t even sure he could. There was still so much about being turned that Adam didn’t know. But the one thing he was sure of was that it took three blood exchanges to create a blood-bonding between a Nightwalker and their chosen partner.

  He bit her, stealing her blood.

  One.

  He just gave her some of his.

  Two.

  He couldn’t let there be a three.

  Since he obviously couldn’t trust himself in regards to Tabby, accepting her invitation into her bed was a bad, bad idea. She wasn’t asking him to make her his betrothed. It was about attraction. Sex. She wanted a good time, not to be tied to his sorry ass for as long as he could stand being a Nightwalker.

  Adam could lie to himself and promise that he was just in it for the sex, too. But after how he “accidentally” fed her his blood, so damn desperate to get some part of him inside of her—to stake his claim, to make her his—he was almost positive that he’d never be able to hang onto his control long enough to keep from instigating the third blood exchange.

  Something told Adam that if he so much as tried to trap his slayer, his back-up plan of walking into the sun if the elixir didn’t work would be unnecessary. Tabby would go right for his neck with her dagger—and he wouldn’t blame her one bit.

  No.

  He couldn’t do it.

  And, somewhere along the journey, Tabby figured it out.

  Her sly smile faded into a look of speculation as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. She’d switched the radio to an oldies station, humming along to “Lean On Me” as she calmly popped bubble after bubble. Gone was the vixen who jumped into his arms, rubbing against him wildly.

  There were so many sides to this woman. The sweet, innocent act she easily adopted when they first met and he foolishly believed he was saving her. The playful tease who called him ‘champ’ while snapping her gum. The temptress who seemed to undress him with her heated gaze. The kick-ass slayer who showed no fear.

  The curious woman who seemed to know what he was thinking—and what he was planning—even before he did.

  When Adam coasted his coupe up to the curb outside of her building, she didn’t seem the least bit surprised when he made no move to park it.

  Fingers resting on the handle, she asked bluntly, “Am I gonna see you again?”

  Good question.

  “I… we’ll see.”

  “There’s still the elixir.”

  He nodded. The elixir. He’d been hanging all of his hopes on that magic potion. If he was human, he wouldn’t be in this situation. If he was human, he could go after Tabby like he wanted to. If he was human, the fear of forcing her to bond with him wouldn’t be an issue.

  But he wasn’t human. He was a damn Para, and unless he could get his claws on the elixir to reverse his turning, that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

  Talk about a catch-22. Tabby had the contact to get the elixir. In order to get it, he needed her help. But he also needed the elixir before he could even think about touching her again.

  And he thought the worst part of being a Nightwalker was the thirst.

  Adam scowled. “We’ll talk later.” Since she finally returned his cell to him, maybe they could do it over the phone instead of in person. “Okay?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” She opened the door. “You know where I live. If you change your mind, the door’s always open. Night, champ.”

  As the echo of the slamming car door rang in his ears, Adam’s claws sliced into the leather of his car’s seat as he fought the desire to get out of the car and follow her toward her apartment.

  But he didn’t. And, as soon as he made sure she was safely inside, he took a deep breath, adjusted his aching cock, and put his foot to the gas pedal, heading back out of Grayson.

  For the first time since he woke up to the shifter’s splitting howl, Adam could breathe again.

  Deb was a lifesaver.

  Instead of going home, Adam took the ride out to the Bumptown. He told himself it was because Colt left him a couple of messages, asking him if he was available for two drop-offs and a full delivery before giving him the info and reminding him to drop in overnight if he was around.

  It was a little after ten when he arrived. Colt’s last text told Adam that the first delivery would need to be dropped off after midnight, and that he left the keys for the loaded delivery in the van. He tended to do that in case he was busy with Shea or pack business, and while Adam’s knee-jerk instinct was to worry about someone stealing it, Colt had a point. Nobody would dare make off with Colton Wolfe’s van, especially in his Bumptown.

  Driving past Colt’s place, he saw that the lights were out. The delivery van was in the driveway; Colt’s truck wasn’t. The shifter wasn’t home.

  Good.

  Before he did the deliveries for Colt, he needed to have another chat with Debbie.

  He was lucky to catch the Dayborn before she turned in for the night. After offering Adam a goblet of blood wine that he politely declined, she sipped on her own glass while he confessed everything that happened between him and Tabby.

  It all came pouring out of him. As he confided in Debbie, he wondered if she was using her Dayborn abilities on him before he decided it didn’t matter. She was the only one he could go to with his questions and, luckily, she didn’t judge.

  To his overwhelming relief, Deb let out a joyous, booming laugh when Adam admitted that he was worried he’d taken two steps toward bonding Tabby to him without her consent. He couldn’t help but think about how Julian Koenig tried to force Shea into being his betrothed. He never wanted to take that choice away from Tabby.

  He didn’t even know if he wanted a mate. Right now, he just wanted to continue getting to know his slayer. Sex was very much on the table—but not if he lost control, instigated the third blood exchange, and selfishly bonded her to him when he was still working toward undoing the change.

  As it turned out, he freaked out over nothing. Debbie explained to him between amused chuckles that paranormal bondings—including blood-bondings—could never be forced. Unless both parties wanted it, unless they both made a conscious decision to accept the connection between them, he could exchange blood with Tabby a hundred times and a bond would never snap into place.

  Besides, she reminded Adam, it wasn’t just the third blood exchange that would do the trick; it involved a much higher intimacy than that. Unless he took his betrothed’s blood at the same time as he came inside of her, he was fine.

  Adam probably used up close to a pint of blood, flushing as Debbie tried to give him the vampire’s version of the birds and the bees talk. When she started recommending the condom brands she preferred her lovers to use, and the best positions where she could feed and fuck at the same time, he hurriedly thanked her for her advice before booking it back to his coupe.

  At least he could breathe again. And while he still wanted to kick his own ass for slipping blood to Tabby, trying to mark her as his in some small way, he felt so much better knowing that he didn’t go past the point of no return with her. That he didn’t completely fuck this up.

  You know where I live. If you change your mind, the door’s always open.

  He really, really hoped she meant that.

  Feeling lighter than he had in days, Adam went back to Colt’s, leaving his coupe in the drive as he swapped it out for the delivery van.

  By now, Adam thought he was getting a handle on Tabby and what kind of woman she was. No way would she be waiting around for him to pull his head out of his ass. She gave him her time last night—and even then she was called into work by that Boone guy. He’d be willing to bet that, as soon as she went up to her apartment, she re-upped her gear and headed back out on a hunt.

  There wasn’t an
ything he could do about the elixir. Tabby was probably right about Holly. If it took a handful of days to arrange the first meet, how long would it take for the witch to give him a second chance?

  And that was if she did.

  Besides, Adam had a job of his own to take care of. So what if Colt only made him a delivery boy because Shea insisted on it? The bonded pair was right. He needed something to busy himself with that wasn’t just obsessing over Rafe and being a Nightwalker. They were looking out for him. He might as well let them.

  So he did his deliveries because he couldn’t come up with any valid reason not to before driving the van all the way back to the Bumptown. Colt still wasn’t home. Figuring he was either with Wolfe and Evangeline, or he was staying overnight with Shea at her shop, he left the keys in the van like Colt did before hopping in his coupe and speeding the rest of the way back to Grayson.

  Back to Tabby.

  Just in case, he stopped off at the nearest convenience store. Debbie’s endorsements were ringing in his ears; he had to admit the Dayborn had a point.

  Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to have some condoms on him if Tabby actually let him in the door.

  Fingers crossed.

  12

  The first thing Tabby did when she walked into her apartment was pick up one of the decorative pillows on the couch, press it to her mouth, and scream.

  There. That helped with some of her frustration.

  It was Adam’s fault. Her Nightwalker got her all keyed up, promising her things with his smile and his kiss, only to chicken out at the last minute. And he did chicken out. Either that or he was overthinking it. During the long drive back to her place, he obviously convinced himself not to complicate their working relationship.

  Probably because he was trying to “protect” her from his being a Para or some bullshit like that.

  Ugh!

  As if she didn’t know that he was a Nightwalker. That he was one of her family’s most ancient enemies. But that was work. When she looked at him, she didn’t see him as a threat—she saw him as a partner. So what if he had to survive on blood and couldn’t go out during the day? She rarely did, either, thanks to her job as a slayer and, as far as Tabby was concerned, he was more like a slayer than he was a target.

  Plus he was caring. Chivalrous. Protective.

  And he could kiss like no one’s business.

  Tabby tossed the pillow back onto the couch. The screaming helped with the mental frustration, though it did shit for the sexual side of it. She was so aroused, she felt like she was ready to jump out of her skin at the first soft caress.

  Too bad she was all alone.

  Jeez. Adam couldn’t peel away from the curb fast enough.

  With a scowl, Tabby turned and locked the door, cursing under her breath when the chain door lock wanted to mess with her again. Since she wasn’t going to have crazy, hot sex tonight, she might as well clean up and get ready to go out for another nighttime hunt.

  Grabbing her shirt by the hem, she lifted it over her head, paying attention to the grass stains and the blood spatter from the earlier fights. Tossing it in the burn pile, she shimmied out of her jeans, deciding after a once-over that they could be saved. Dirt covered the side of her arm. A stray blade of grass or two fell out of her hair when she removed her ponytail holder.

  A peek at her naked body in the hallway mirror made Tabby wince. Okay. So maybe that was another reason why Adam changed his mind. Bruises had bloomed over the last few hours, covering her from hip to tit. Her family was bred to have an unnaturally high pain tolerance so she didn’t even realize the hits had been that rough. She looked like her body had gone a couple of rounds with a heavyweight boxer instead of a shifter.

  Lovely.

  Good thing she had charmed soap in the bathroom. A couple of aspirins would kill the last of her stiffness, while the soap would help heal the visible bruises.

  And the vibrator she stowed in her bedside table would take care of her more pressing ache.

  It wasn’t Adam, but since she doubted she’d hear from him again until she got back in touch with Holly, it would have to do.

  Less than an hour later, Tabby was loose, limber, and freshly showered. She’d yanked on fresh jeans, a long-sleeve shirt since it felt like summer rain was on its way, and was putting the finishing touches on her ponytail when her phone rang.

  Her heart leaped into her throat—

  Adam?

  —only to sink suddenly when she read the name on the screen. Swallowing a disappointed sigh, she answered.

  “Hi, Boone.”

  “Tabitha. I see that you’re still at your rental. Are you going out tonight?”

  “I was planning on it. Why? What’s up?”

  Tabby thought he might have a tip for her.

  She was wrong.

  “I thought I’d let you know that, after some consideration, I think we’re going to have to pull the plug on the Grayson job. I’m just not seeing the results I was hoping for.”

  Tabby couldn’t believe what he had just said. “What— why?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it since your last report. Don’t you think Woodbridge needs you more?”

  “Because of what went down with the shifter?” She sank down on the couch. “I got lucky that I managed to survive that one. You know I deal with Nightwalkers.”

  “And there was a Nightwalker threat roaming those woods where you were, too,” Boone reminded her. “Whether that was a coincidence or not, you successfully eliminate two dangerous Para targets in one night.

  “It’s been almost two weeks in Grayson and you’ve only found three targets to eliminate in that time. The numbers are not on our side, Tabitha. Woodbridge might be a more pressing concern, all things considered.”

  Tabby kept her mouth shut; for one of the first times ever, she wasn’t quite sure what she should say. On the one hand, she still wasn’t convinced that Bowers was all that much of a threat on his own. Magic was definitely involved when it came to the poor shifter—and that caught her attention. Boone’s, too. Three of the most powerful paranormal races—witches, shifters, and vamps—were all out in full force last night in Woodbridge.

  But, on the other hand, Tabby felt like she needed to stick it out in Grayson. It had its own secrets, its own Para threats.

  She also knew that, if she admitted that she wasn’t hunting the wannabe slayer in Grayson any longer, her uncle would definitely pull the plug on this job.

  And what would happen with her promise to help Adam?

  Because, yeah… her promise to help her sexy Nightwalker get the elixir was her only reason why she wanted to stick around him.

  Uh-huh.

  Sure, Tab.

  In the silence that followed her uncle’s pronouncement, Tabby heard a muffled voice—a male voice—sound in the background, coming through her phone. That was… different. Her uncle guarded his office and his home like it was his sanctuary. As his beloved sister’s daughter… as his ward… Tabby was always an exception.

  “What was that, Daniels?” Boone murmured.

  As the muffled voice started up again, Tabby rolled her eyes.

  Eddie.

  She should’ve known.

  Regardless of what happened between her and Adam, as soon as she finished up in Grayson, she was going to have to put her foot down about that. She’d been too coy. Too non-confrontational when it counted. That wasn’t quite like her, either, but Boone wasn’t the only one who had a soft spot for their relationship. She didn’t want to disappoint her uncle—well, any more than she already did—but she also wasn’t going to be pushed into some kind of partnership with Eddie Daniels because it was “for the greater good” or some other bullshit.

  “What’s he doing there?” she asked.

  “Since you made it perfectly clear that you’d scout the mixed city on your own,” Boone began, barely censuring his obvious disapproval, “Eddie is doing some legwork from our HQ between hunts. It never made sense to me t
hat a city firmly in the middle of pack territory wouldn’t have at least some interference. It did last year. We wondered what changed.”

  That made sense. Tabby agreed with her uncle so far. Even she thought it was weird.

  Back in late November, when Grayson was suddenly a hotspot for a rash of Nightwalker murders, Boone sent out another slayer when the cops seemed to falter. Then Melinda caught wind that the Grayson PD had partnered up with a member of the Eastern Pack to eliminate the Nightwalker threat. Since one of the most followed tenets of the Slayer’s Code was secrecy, Melinda backed off the hunt while the humans and the shifters went after Julian Koenig and his crew.

  But that’s what was different about this time. From the whispers and the rumors and the intel that Boone gathered before he assigned Tabby to come back to Grayson, it wasn’t a vamp vs. everyone else sitch going down. Nope. It was fang on fang violence that really caught her uncle’s attention.

  There was a Nightwalker out there hunting other Nightwalkers. That’s why Boone sent her on this particular job. Because, he said when he first gave her the case file, a murderous Nightwalker was a murderous Nightwalker. One kill would lead to another, the bloodlust building. It was only a matter of time before he drained a human or killed a shifter.

  Now that she’d actually gotten to know the Nightwalker she suspected to be behind the slayings, she was suddenly reminded of something she used to argue with her uncle about back when she was an unruly teen.

  Just because slayers kill, that didn’t make them killers. And while she was willing to accept that she got too close to the target already, she was convinced the same thing held true when it came to Adam.

  When she accepted this hunt—jeez, was it only a couple of weeks ago?—she’d wondered what the Nightwalker’s motives were. Why was he only going after his own kind? Was it a territory issue? A need to subdue others of his race? Was it the challenge?