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"I need you," he growled, breaking their kiss again and leaning back slightly so that he could close both hands over her breasts. One was bare, but the other was still covered by her bra. Thomas fixed that quickly enough so that he could caress her naked flesh.
Inez covered his hands with her own and leaned her head back against the wall, moaning as she shifted her hips to grind against him and then one of his hands slid away and the cool night air caressed her breast as she felt him fiddling at the waist of her slacks.
"Why aren't you wearing a skirt?" he muttered with frustration.
"I will from now on," Inez promised and then the material at her waist gave and his hand slid inside and between her legs. Inez bucked against him and cried out as his finger brushed against her slick flesh, a sound that he cut off by covering her mouth again with his own.
Inez kissed him back frantically, slipping one of her own hands between them to press it against his erection, and squeezing firmly. When Thomas growled into her mouth, she released him and worked at the button and zipper of his jeans, opening both so that she could slip her own hand inside to find him, and then his cell phone rang.
Chapter Seven
Thomas and Inez both pulled apart slightly and then froze, their eyes locking on each other as his cell phone continued to ring. When he didn't react, Inez slid her hand in the back pocket of his jeans, retrieved his phone and held it up between them.
Sighing, Thomas allowed her to slide to her feet and took the phone. Opening it, he barked, "Hello. "
Herb immediately began nattering in his ear, but Thomas wasn't paying attention. His gaze as well as all his focus was on Inez as she began to straighten her clothes. Thomas watched her tucking all that delectable flesh away, hard-pressed not to drop his phone and simply rip every stitch of material off of her. That was foremost in his thoughts despite the fact that one very tiny part of his brain was telling him he should really drop to his knees, apologize, and beg her forgiveness. The Sweet Ecstasy in his system might be driving him wild with need, but there was still one portion of Thomas's brain functioning and it was enough to throw a bit of guilt on the mixture of hunger and desire presently swirling in his brain.
It was a very tiny portion of his brain, but it was telling him that he had pretty much dragged Inez into the alley and attacked her. While he knew it was true and had even realized it as he'd done it, Thomas hadn't been able to help himself. A shock of excitement had gone through him the moment he'd taken her arm to steer her out of the path of the drunk and rowdy group moving toward them, and that was just from touching her elbow.
He'd feared that would happen. That's why he'd avoided touching her since the light brush of her arm against his on the tram. He'd known it would simply ramp up the need swirling through his body like a tornado. However, he might have resisted then, but when she'd stumbled and they crashed into the wall, their bodies briefly pressing together, he'd been lost, overwhelmed by the sudden surge of desire inside him.
A flash fire had gone through him, bursting to life at every point where their bodies had met and Thomas had attacked her. There was no other description for it and he knew it. He'd jumped her like a slavering animal, forcing himself on her despite her struggles. It was only when she'd said his name and pulled at his hair that he'd regained any sense at all and then it had only been enough for him to drag her farther into the shadows and shift to a lower gear, switching from taking what he wanted to a determined coaxing. But it had been determined. He would have taken her right there against the dark alley wall if not for Herb's phone call. Only the fact that she was wearing slacks instead of a skirt had slowed him down, and only the ring of the phone-a piercing reminder of the need to find Aunt Marguerite-had made him stop.
"Thomas? Did you get that?"
Blinking, Thomas forced himself to look away from Inez and concentrate on the voice on the other end of the phone.
"Herb. No, I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" he asked.
"I said you were right. She appears to be on the move. The coordinates are different this time. Are you ready for them?"
"Yes," he assured him, forcing himself to attention. "Go ahead. "
He had Herb repeat them twice to make sure he had them fixed in his memory and then thanked him and signed off. Thomas closed the phone with a sigh and slipped it in his back pocket, then quickly straightened his own clothes before retrieving the folded map in his other back pocket and heading for the light at the mouth of the alley.
As he'd expected, Inez quickly fell into step beside him. Trying to concentrate on what he had to do, Thomas found it difficult not to yell at her to go back to the hotel and leave him in peace. The only reason he managed to control that urge was because he wanted her there with him as much as he wanted her gone. He was trying to fight the effects of the Sweet Ecstasy, but they were fighting him right back.
"What are the new coordinates?" Inez asked as he stopped on the lit path and opened the map.
Thomas peered at the tentative smile she was offering and shook his head slightly, amazed that she wasn't railing at him for what he'd just done. The woman was very forgiving, but obviously had no idea how precarious his control-and therefore her position-was. If she did, he was sure she'd be heading for the airport and the first plane back to England, or at least back to the hotel to lock herself in her room. Not that a locked door was likely to stop him if he lost control completely.
Turning his gaze back to the map, Thomas glanced over it, finding the new coordinates and comparing them to where they presently were, then glanced around as he quickly refolded the map.
"This way. " Back to avoiding touching her, he led the way up the street as he slid the street map back into his pocket. They were headed back the way they'd come, and he frowned as he wondered if they'd somehow passed Marguerite on their way out without his noticing her, or if she'd already moved to where she now was before he'd headed out. That was more likely. He couldn't imagine Marguerite would have had any reason to be at the first spot. He just couldn't imagine her stopping in at a prostitute's windowed room.
Unless it was to feed, Thomas thought suddenly, realizing that without knowing where she was, Bastien had no way to send her blood. It wouldn't be that big a problem for her over here. As Bastien had said, the council in Europe had some different laws than those in North America. Biting mortals was allowed over here, although most immortals he knew tended to prefer the safety offered by bagged blood. They simply didn't want to give up the choice of fresh, warm blood from the source on occasion.
Marguerite might very well have been visiting one of the prostitutes in the window. . . to feed.
Thomas found the idea disturbing. He'd never known his aunt to choose people over bagged blood. But why hadn't she contacted Bastien and had blood shipped out? The longer she was missing the more worried he became. Something was obviously wrong, and he was the one in charge of finding out what that was. It was a task he couldn't fail, not just because he didn't want to let down the rest of the family, but because he himself needed her to be safe and well. She was the central focus of family to him. He loved Jeanne Louise and Lissianna as sisters, but Marguerite was stability and the very embodiment of home and family for Thomas. He had hardly cared that Jean Claude, Marguerite's husband, had died except that it meant he wouldn't be around to make the wonderful woman miserable, but losing Marguerite would be a crushing blow.
The red-lit windows had thinned out as they walked, separated more and more by bars and shops. When they reached the new coordinates, Thomas found they were standing on a walkway that was a little wider than the one they'd just left. On their right was a row of bars and restaurants, on their left was a row of outdoor tables with large outdoor umbrellas sporting various beer logos.
No doubt they had stopped here to eat. While Marguerite was over seven hundred years old and no longer ate, Tiny McGraw was mortal and did. If that was the case, they might still
be here. Surely it would take some time to cook a meal and eat it.
"Is this the spot?" Inez asked, her gaze sliding over the tables.
Thomas nodded and they both began to move slowly along the walkway between the tables and buildings, their eyes moving carefully over the patrons seated outside.
"Maybe she's inside one of the restaurants or bars," Inez suggested as they drew near the end of the tables.
Thomas nodded and frowned as he glanced toward the front of the buildings, unsure what to do. He was afraid that if they started going into the restaurants, Marguerite might come out of one while they were in another and leave without them seeing her.
"I could wait out here while you check the restaurants, that way we would be sure not to miss her," Inez suggested.
Thomas glanced at her, grateful for the suggestion his own brain was in no shape to come up with, but he asked, "Do you know what she looks like?"
"Yes. I met her when I was in New York. "
Relieved to have the matter settled, he glanced around and then suggested, "Why don't you have a seat at one of the tables on the end here so that you can watch all the doors. I'll be as quick as I can. "
Nodding, Inez moved to the nearest table, settling herself in a seat that put her back to the rest of the path but gave her a view of the entrances of the row of restaurants and bars.
The moment she was settled, Thomas headed for the door of the first bar.
Fifteen minutes later, Inez watched Thomas walk into the last bar in this little area and sighed to herself. Obviously, he hadn't spotted Marguerite in any of the other bars, and she suspected he wouldn't find her in this one either. No doubt they'd missed her again. She probably hadn't stopped here at all, but had been tracked in the area as she was passing through again. They'd probably have to call his friend, Herb, and have him track her phone once more and Inez was beginning to fear they would spend the whole night hurrying from spot to spot chasing after her until near sunrise when she'd settle into whatever hotel she was stopping at. Inez was too tired for this nonsense.
A burst of laughter drew her gaze to a group of men seated at the tables of the next bar over, and she smiled faintly when she recognized the stag party group from Britain. They were laughing and having a good time, but the groom was looking a little the worse for wear. His wig was lopsided, he had several runs in his stockings, the makeup on his face-garish to begin with-was smudged as well as bleeding down his face with sweat. He still appeared to be having a good time, though; his smile was bright and beaming.
Shaking her head with amusement, Inez started to glance back toward the doors, but paused as her gaze landed on a man seated alone at a table two over from the stag party. He had short, spiky black hair above a thin face and looked vaguely familiar to her. Inez only peered at him for a moment, and then decided he too must have been on the plane with them. Amsterdam was a small city and every one seemed to go to the Red Light District at some point, if only to tour through and gawk. If she sat there long enough, she'd probably see every single person from their flight pass by, Inez thought as she glanced back toward the restaurants.
It should have been a boring business, sitting there watching people enter and exit and gambol by, but it really wasn't. It was a lovely night, with a clear sky, a light breeze, and the sound of gently lapping water to her side from the canal. Inez had always enjoyed people watching and it was hard not to in this setting.
"Hello, beautiful lady. "
Inez glanced around with a start as three men suddenly took up the extra seats at her table. She'd seen them approaching, but had assumed that they intended to claim a table of their own, not join her. Now, she glanced wide-eyed from man to man to man; a blonde, a brunette, and a man with a shaved head. All of them were about her age and all of them wore a half-drunk, half-stoned, we're-here-to-have fun smiles.
"Can we buy you a drink?" the blonde asked in a rather slurred British accent.
"No, thank you, I've ordered one. . . and I'm waiting for someone," Inez added stiffly. This wasn't a situation she was used to dealing with. In fact, it had never happened to her before. Work kept her busy enough that she rarely went out socially, but when she did, it was with her girlfriends, Lisa and Sherry. They lived in the neighboring flat. She'd met them the day she'd moved from Portugal to London. Lisa wrote a column for a national magazine and Sherry worked in IT for the same magazine. They were both gorgeous model types; Lisa, a tall blond, and Sherry, a tall redhead, and always drew all the attention when the three of them were together, leaving Inez free of having to fend off advances.
That was part of the reason Inez did occasionally agree to go out with the pair. Going out with them was like going out with shields. In their presence, she disappeared into the surroundings and wasn't forced to socialize with the opposite sex. While Inez had a lot of confidence at work, was excellent at what she did, and could handle any crisis, in her personal life she was decidedly lacking in self-confidence.
Inez was short and-in her opinion-twenty pounds overweight. She was top heavy, her lips were too full, her hair too wild and unmanageable, insisting on curling in the damp English air. None of which was considered attractive by today's standards. Hairstyles today were all nice, flat helmets, and no matter how many creams or hair flatteners she used, her glossy black curls would not be beaten into submission. As for the rest of her, unfortunately, there was no cream to make her shoot up about six inches and give her a svelte figure.
"Oh, don't be like that, love," the one with the shaved head said. "We're just trying to be friendly. "
Inez had a sudden, overwhelming urge to tell them to bugger off. She had Thomas, a lifemate chosen by nanos or God or both and dropped into her life without any effort on her part and no need to try to pretend to a confidence, beauty, or social skills she didn't have. She didn't feel awkward or unsure around him, didn't feel the least uncomfortable. . .
Blinking at her own thoughts, Inez suddenly sagged back in her seat. It was true. She didn't feel self-conscious or out of place with Thomas as she did with most men. She felt completely comfortable with him, even at her worst as she was right now. And she was definitely at her worst. She was tired, hungry, and while she'd had a bath at the hotel in London, she was still wearing the wrinkled clothes she'd tugged on that morning, hadn't had even an elastic to pull back her unmanageable hair, or any makeup to put on afterward other than the lipstick she'd had in her purse, and yet it didn't seem to matter to Thomas. He'd still kissed her in the hotel, and then gone at her again just moments ago in the dark alley.