“Mike who?”
He licked his upper lip. “My boss.”
She felt as if he’d licked her upper lip, and she just barely stopped herself from mirroring his action. She shook her head slowly from side to side to clear the odd buzzing in her ears. “No. I went to Tante Lulu for help in getting my brother out of prison. She has a lot of connections, or so I was told. And she heard about some prison talent show that she thought her family could infiltrate, or something, and I got kind of bulldozed into coming here today. But holy moly! I’m turning into a regular Chatty Cathy.” She was rambling and couldn’t seem to stop.
He continued to smile at her.
And she felt an erotic thrill pass over her in waves. Just from a smile. But wait. “Oh my God! You have vampire teeth,” she blurted out. And he did, not that they made him any less attractive, just different.
“Oops,” he said, and wiped a hand across his closed mouth. Then, he asked, “Better?” He bared his top teeth at her.
She nodded. The pointed incisors were mostly gone. He now had perfectly straight, white teeth that would do an orthodontist proud.
“Sorry about that. I can usually control myself, but when I’m in high emotion, they come out.” He shrugged helplessly.
“Your teeth elongate and retract at will?” she asked tentatively.
“Not exactly.”
“And why are you in ‘high emotion’?”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk!” he chided her. “Surely, you feel it, too.” His voice was husky as he took her hand in his under the table.
The shock of his touch, palm against palm, was almost her undoing. In a week that had been filled with one shock after another, this reaction to a stranger could be her tipping point. As blood drained from her head, she could feel herself growing faint. The only thing anchoring her to the chair was Ivak’s tighter hold on her hand.
Luckily, Tante Lulu drew his attention from the other side. “Didja ever meet St. Jude?”
What? Where did that come from? Honestly, the old lady was a fruitcake, and Gabrielle was beginning to feel like one of the nuts.
“Uh, no, I haven’t,” Ivak said.
“What seminary did you attend?” Charmaine asked, clearly as puzzled as Gabrielle by his appearance, which was not very clerical.
“Um. St. Michael’s.”
Tante Lulu leaned up and whispered something in his ear.
He nodded.
Tante Lulu beamed then as she addressed Charmaine and Gabrielle. “Aintcha glad now that we come ta help with the talent show?”
Charmaine and Gabrielle looked at each other, puzzled.
“St. Jude had a hand in our comin’ here, sure as shootin’. Speakin’ of shootin’,” Tante Lulu addressed Leroy now, “dontcha be shootin’ anyone ’til we spring you outta this slammer. Thass what they call a prison. The slammer.”
“I know what a slammer is. Jesus! Who are you people?” Leroy asked, then speared Gabrielle with a glare.
She shrugged.
Ivak told Leroy not to use the Lord’s name in vain.
Charmaine was checking out a chip in her nail enamel.
Leroy swore under his breath, something about his fucked-up life.
Tante Lulu made a hissing noise of disapproval.
Ivak reached across the table and swatted Leroy on the shoulder. “Have a care, lest I show you how fucked up your life can get.” He turned to the others then and said, “About your helping with the talent show . . . I appreciate the offer, but I doubt the warden would let any outsiders in here to participate.”
“Pooh! I’ll take care of the warden,” Tante Lulu said, opening her Richard Simmons fan and waving it in front of her face. “It’s hotter in here than a goat’s butt in a pepper patch.”
Noticing the worry on Ivak’s face, Charmaine added, “The LeDeux family is noted for its talent shows. We can guarantee you a success.”
“I don’t know about that, but if you can get this stubborn ass here”—he pointed at Leroy—“to play his horn in the show, it would be a huge help.”
Leroy shot him a look of consternation. “Nice try, dickhead.”
“Oh, he’ll be participatin’, all right,” Tante Lulu assured Ivak.
“It’ll be fun,” Charmaine assured Leroy, patting him on the arm.
Leroy stared pointedly at her hand and asked, “Are you sure you’re married, honey?”
“I’m married all right, and you best drop the honeys before Rusty gets here. My husband, bless his heart, has a jealous streak wide as Bayou Teche.”
Leroy winked at her.
Charmaine laughed. “Tell you what, though. I have a stylist in my Houma salon that looks just like I did twenty years ago. Behave yourself and once you’re out, I’ll fix you up.”
“Deal!” Leroy said, though the expression on his face told another story. He didn’t think he’d ever get out.
One of the guard’s cell phones rang then and he walked over asking which of them was Charmaine Lanier. When Charmaine stood, his eyes went wide with appreciation before he handed her the phone. After a few “uh-huhs” and “okays” and then a “Love you, too, baby,” Charmaine clicked off the phone and handed it back to the guard. Then she told them all, “Rusty has permission for us all . . . including you, Leroy . . . to go over to the area where the rodeo is held and a stage will be erected for the talent show. Let’s go check it out.”
They all stood to go, except Ivak and Gabrielle. Ivak was holding her hand firmly on his thigh and he told the others, “I have a few things to discuss with Gabrielle. We’ll catch up with you.”
Gabrielle started to protest, but Ivak whispered close to her ear, “We can settle this in private, or in front of everyone. Your choice.”
Seeing that Leroy was about to protest as well, which might very well end in a brawl, Gabrielle said, “Mr. Sigurdsson is right. There are a few details I need to discuss with him.”
When the others left, Ivak drawled, “Mr. Sigurdsson?” and drew her hand up to kiss her knuckles. She tried to unlace her fingers from Ivak’s, but he held tight. Over their entwined fingers, he winked at her.
She was not going to think about how that wink affected her.
“Hardly the way you should address your soul mate, dearling.”
Gabrielle just laughed and stood, yanking her hand free.
“You find amusement in me, m’lady?” The Viking actually looked offended as he stood, too, towering over her.
“Well, yeah! C’mon! You have to admit, that is the oldest line in the book. Soul mates went out with bell-bottoms.”
“Are you saying that we’re not soul mates?” A hopeful expression covered his handsome face and he raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Thank you, God!”
That wasn’t very complimentary, not that she cared, of course. “What is it that you wanted to discuss with me? If it’s just to put some moves on me, forget about it. I’m immune to womanizers like you.”
“Now that’s a challenge I can’t ignore. Wait here.” He went over and spoke rapidly with a nearby guard. The guard in turn spoke into a cell phone, then nodded at Ivak. Ivak returned to the table and said, “I have permission to take you to my office where we can speak in private.”
She balked. “Why can’t we talk here?”
He shook his head. “The things I have to tell you must not be overheard.”
Okaaay. Maybe he has information that would help Leroy’s case. “All right, but I have to join the others soon.”
He smiled at her as if he’d won some victory.
Five
This kiss! This kiss! And then some, Faith Hill! . . .
Ivak had done some bizarre things in his very long life, but dragging a hesitant woman through an all-male prison defied even his admittedly loose boundaries.
Despite her contention that they were not soul mates, Ivak had a nagging suspicion that she was wrong. He had to find out. How he would deal with that calamity, he had no idea, but a warrior had to know what he was up
against afore entering battle. And this would be a battle for him, if his suspicions were proved true. He would lose what little freedom he now had.
Actually, he wasn’t exactly dragging the woman, and she wasn’t exactly protesting. More like leading a stubborn mutt outside on a cold night. Not that he would tell her that. She was already scowling at him like he was a gruesome troll, probably because his office was so far away from the visitors’ area.
Finally, he reached the end of the hallway that branched off The Walk. He unlocked his office door with one hand, shoved Gabrielle inside, then locked the door behind him, pocketing the key. Leaning back against the door, he watched as she positioned herself on the other side of his desk, as if she could do anything to withstand his siege.
Not that he was planning a siege.
Unless he had to.
Besides, it was a small room, so there wasn’t all that much distance between them, without sieging.
He inhaled deeply and held his breath, hoping to withstand her allure.
She was beautiful.
To me, leastways.
Taller than normal.
We would fit together perfectly.
Thinner than he usually liked.
I could feed her grapes and sweetmeats in bed.
Frown lines bracketed her lush mouth.
Oh, the ways that I could make her smile.
Hair pulled off her face, hard, like a nun.
Not a nun. Definitely not a nun I am picturing with the long silky strands spread over my pillow.
He should be immune to a woman like her, not at all what he usually favored, but he was not immune. Far from it. Every nerve ending in his body was sending him danger signals.
He’d never felt this way before.
There was no explanation.
Unless . . .
She glanced at him, then did a double take. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” he asked, trying to make his face blank.
“Like I’m a tasty praline you’d like to sink your teeth into.”
If you only knew, dearling! If you only knew! “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Placing both palms on the desk blotter, she told him, “You are in such trouble, buster, if you don’t have a very good reason for bringing me back here. I could sue your pants off if you have some ulterior motives. I can do it, too. I’m a lawyer.”
“My name is Ivak, not Buster, and, sweetling, methinks you would not have to use legal means to get my pants off. One whiff of your woman scent, and I am ready to surrender all to you.” He gave her a slow, lazy smile . . . the one that was a surefire melter of woman throughout time.
She just frowned.
He tried a different smile, the one where his lips were closed and a little pouty. “Or mayhap you would consider surrendering to me.”
Nothing.
Am I losing my charm? Oh no! All these years of celibacy must be ruining my woman-luck.
“Are you crazy?”
“A little bit.” It will be a lot if I find out I am now a charmless troll, that is for sure.
“What the hell is a woman scent?”
“It’s the enticing aroma that exudes from the skin drawing a mate. Like roses and musk, yours is.”
“Musk! Somewhere in that ridiculous statement is an insult.”
He shook his head. “I suspect you are aware of my male scent as well. Scent awareness is apparent only to destined couples.”
“That soul mate BS again!” Her face colored.
“ ’Tis true, I fear.”
“Do you mean that odd mixture of cloves and sandalwood? I figured it must be your cologne or deodorant.”
He shook his head, then smiled again. He was turning into a regular smiling idiot. “Is that how I smell to you? Cloves and sandalwood? Nice,” he decided. “No one has ever remarked on it before, but it is definitely not a manmade substance.”
“You’re talking about pheromones. Don’t give me that destiny bullshit.”
He cringed at her crude language, but decided now was not the time to tell her of his preferences. She would soon learn what pleased him if she was his soul mate.
Mayhap this is just a trick Mike is tossing my way to trip me up.
Mayhap I got my signals crossed, and she is not my destined mate, after all.
Well, there is one way to find out.
“Come here,” he said and wagged his fingertips in a beckoning fashion.
Her eyes went wide. “In your dreams!”
“That, too.” Ivak figured he had a limited amount of time before someone came looking for them. So, he shortcut through his usual repertoire of seduction techniques. He held her gaze for a long moment.
She was unable to look away.
There were some gifts a vampire angel had that came in handy.
Almost immediately, she gasped and began to walk woodenly toward him. He was standing against the wall under a security camera. They wouldn’t be seen.
When she stood before him, almost touching, he blew softly against her lips. He could not kiss her. Not yet. Lest he lose control. He was on the edge already. Do not kiss her, Ivak, he warned himself.
“Ooooh,” she moaned softly, and put her hands on his shoulders to keep herself upright. “What are you doing to me?”
“Testing,” he said against one side of her mouth. Do not kiss her, Ivak.
“Me?”
“Both of us.” He pressed his lips to the other side of her mouth. Do not kiss her, Ivak.
“I’m very smart. I excel at tests,” she said, her breath an erotic feather stroke against his sensitized lips.
“It’s not that kind of test,” he murmured into her ear. Do not kiss her, Ivak.
She shivered. “Have you hypnotized me?”
“Have you hypnotized me?” he countered and nipped at her luscious earlobe. Holy clouds! When did ear parts become carnal triggers for me?
The good, saner side of his brain continued to warn, Do not kiss her, Ivak.
The bad, or leastways weaker, side of his brain said, Surely I have enough self-control to withstand one little kiss.
Guess who won?
Ivak fisted his hands at his side, deluding himself that if he didn’t touch her with his hands he could maintain at least a modicum of control, and laid his lips gently on hers. A whisper of a kiss. Nothing, really. And everything.
It felt as if he had a thousand pinpoints of nerve endings on his lips and they were all exploding with the most exquisite pleasure. Even worse, or better, his instantly sword-hard cock felt the same way.
Gabrielle must have been experiencing the same thing because she moaned and parted her lips.
It was all the invitation Ivak needed, or temptation he could withstand.
With a groan of surrender, he gently cupped her face in his hands and angled her head just so. Then he took her mouth voraciously, like a marauding Viking too long at sea. He would have tried harder to slow himself down if Gabrielle weren’t so accepting of his “assault.” In truth, she was doing a bit of assaulting herself, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, as if to prevent his retreat. Hah! Retreat was the last thing on his sex-hazed brain.
Some men considered kissing a mere speed bump on the way to intercourse. Not him. A good kiss required a finesse that he had in abundance.
But this kiss was different.
When their lips locked, an odd compulsion overtook them both. He breathed into her mouth, and she breathed back into his. Over and over. They inhaled and exhaled each other’s very life sustenance in a most carnal manner. Amazing!
Ivak was a good kisser. He prided himself on all the nuances of the art, the taking and the giving, the coaxing and the demands, the licking and the sucking, all utilizing combinations of the lips, teeth, and tongue.
Gabrielle was a good kisser, too, but Ivak wasn’t sure if it came from years of experience, as his skill did, or the unique chemistry betwixt the two of them. As a narcissi
st from way back—though he had not known the word then—he preferred to think it was the former.
“You taste like mint and woman-lust,” he murmured against her mouth during one brief break.
“You really do have wings. Beautiful, misty blue wings,” she said against his mouth during a later break. “They are wrapped around me like a million cuddly feathers.”
Ivak did not know about that! He’d never actually seen that wispy blue wing phenomenon himself, though he had witnessed it on his brothers. And as for cuddly . . . not quite what he was known for!
They kissed and kissed and kissed, for what felt like hours, but was probably only fifteen minutes or so. He had to stop soon, not just because he was becoming too aroused, but he did not want his first time with this woman—if there was to be a time, at all—to be inside a prison where even the walls had eyes. Though it was other eyes he was more concerned about. Celestial eyes.
With a sigh, he set Gabrielle away from him, hands on her shoulders to steady her shaky frame. Truth to tell, he was shaky himself. “Gabrielle, we must stop,” he said. “Much as I would like to hold you for hours”—and do much more than hold—“we must catch up with your brother.” To Ivak’s shame, he’d just realized that Leroy was out and about carrying the Lucie sin taint, not that the demon vampires would attack when he was in a group, or out in the open. No, they would wait until he was alone in a secluded area, if only for a moment.
She blinked several times, as if confused. She had beautiful eyes, brown pools edged in a darker, almost black shade, like caramel with a rim of chocolate. “What . . . what have you done to me?” She shoved away from him and put the back of her hand to her kiss-swollen lips. He loved that he had marked her in that way, and wondered if he was marked by her, as well. He hoped so. “Oh my God! Did you slip me a roofie, or something? No, it can’t be that. I haven’t drunk anything. I feel so . . . overcome.”
He shook his head. “I’ve done nothing to you. Overcome, that is a good word. It was done to us both.”
“By whom?”
He raised his gaze upward.
She looked up at the grimy ceiling, as if the answer lay there. When she understood what he’d meant, she laughed.
He loved her laugh, like a feather tickling his soul, it was.