Crimson City Part 10

Kippenham nodded, then took a deep breath and wiped the tears from his cheek. He turned around again and Dain had to suppress the urge to push him over the threshold. "Dain, I want you to know that I never made a play for her after you and she married. You were both my good friends, and I respected that."

When he finally stepped out and was gone, Dain shut the door, wheeled around, and looked around the living room. This was the same furniture he'd had during his marriage. That much hadn't changed. He went to the desk and took out the drawers, patting down the wood, looking for secret compartments, old letters stuck behind in cracks. The bureau, the bed, the bookcase... same thing. What he was looking for, he couldn't really say. They'd taken everything way back when, like he'd asked. But they'd been more thorough than he'd expected. There was nothing left of her in his possession. Nothing at all.

What kind of a love had they had? Was it safe and sweet? Or had they burned with desire? He thought of Fleur. Of her face and body and the way she made him lose control. She was the one who was vivid and alive for him, now, and that disloyalty to Serena swept a wave of shame through him.

He stumbled back to the coffee table and crouched down on the floor. Taking the locket in his hands, he started to shake. He covered his head in his arms and began to sob. She was my wife and I don't feel half of what Kipp does. Where the h.e.l.l is my heart? Where is my love?

What's wrong with me?

Chapter Thirteen.

It had been a few days since she'd seen Dain Reston, and for that Fleur was actually rather glad. She'd needed some time to cool off.

Stepping into his apartment looking like she'd just walked out of a movie premiere wasn't meant to stir things up again. Certainly, she'd planned this appearance carefully, partly to make the right impression on the dogs-but if she were honest about it, partly to see Dain's reaction. But she'd had no conscious intention of heating things up between them. The unpredictable part of her, that subconscious part which had gotten her in trouble with Hayden, was something Dain was clearly capable of bringing out in her. Fleur couldn't pretend she didn't want to know how far she could take things; she only knew she couldn't take things there.

In any case, she'd dressed primarily for what might lie ahead in werewolf territory.

Her hair was entwined in an intricate updo, out of her face. Her striped satin showed off a lot of cleav-age, but it concealed a couple of small weapons fastened along the seams of the hem, and the ribbons and laces up the front hid comm wiring. Her black satin tunic cigarette pants were lined with a thin layer of armored fabric, and the sides of her high-heeled leather boots featured an a.s.sortment of travel-sized weapons. Granted, the footwear might not be the easiest to run in, but when you knew how to fly, that wasn't such a concern. And men always underestimated the power of a stiletto heel to the eye.

Dain looked up, apparently speechless. "Wow. Incredible."

He didn't look so bad himself. He'd had a few days for his bruises and cuts to heal, but humans didn't heal as fast as vampires, and he showed just enough wear and tear to make him even s.e.xier. Fleur liked her men a little dangerous, which Dain definitely was.

He was still staring at her, his expression cycling between admiration and disbelief.

Fleur couldn't help smiling. That is, until Dain leaped up from his chair, crossed the room and began pulling hairpins out of her perfect coiffure.

"What are you doing?" He shook his head in disbelief. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing?"

n.o.body... n.o.body dared touch her like this. At least not in vampire circles. Confused and unsettled by his roughness, his aggression, Fleur struggled for the proper response.

She settled on slapping him hard across the face. He had the nerve to look surprised. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

Dain backed off, running his fingers down his cheek. "Jesus H. There's no question. You're definitely Warrior cla.s.s."

"And to think I was worried about you!"

"You were worried about me?" Dain grinned. "h.e.l.l, I'm fine. You thought the fight with that rogue was serious?" He held out his scarred arms. "I don't think there's much more damage that can be done to me. You, on the other hand, are a different story." He threw up his arms, gesturing to her outfit. "So, what is this?"

Fleur narrowed her eyes. Typical male: no appreciation whatsoever. "I spent hours getting ready for this. Hours. And if you had certain required attire, you should have made that clear."

Dain didn't answer. He just tilted his head, his eyebrow going up as his gaze shifted from her head... to her chest... to her waistline... to her feet... and back up. Fleur just glowered at him, her hair falling in her face.

He didn't say a word.

"What? What are you staring at?"

He took a deep breath and finally swept his gaze up to her face, the look in his eyes somehow sending her heartbeat into double-time. "Sweetheart," he drawled, "there is no question that you are a knockout. But you're not wearing that tonight. You couldn't pa.s.s for human right now if you tried. Tell me you've got something on underneath that."

And with that, he moved in and proceeded to roughly unlace her bodice.

"Do not paw at me," she said breathlessly. "You're like a beast!"

She swatted at him, barely able to breathe properly with his fingers tickling her collarbone, his hands brushing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. It was horrifying how much this man affected her. Completely ridiculous. Impossible. Inappropriate. But so, so exciting.

"You can't wear this-this... what is this called?" he was saying. "This bows-and-laces-and-low-cut business... what is it, 'frippery,' or something?"

Her hands had stilled as she fixated on the way his fingers slipped against her skin, and Dain simply batted them away. He finished the job, slipping the expensive tunic from her shoulders and leaving her with only a completely plain, fitted black camisole underneath. Exposed and excited, Fleur couldn't suppress the small sound that escaped her throat as he pulled one strap back up and smoothed it flat against her shoulder. He cleared his throat, noting a little hoa.r.s.ely that "this" would do with a jacket over it; then he added, "At least you didn't wear a skirt and those little slipper shoe things." He looked down, his hand reaching out toward her waistband.

"Mules," Fleur said, her hand whipping out and capturing his wrist. "And don't even think about it."

"No?" he said with a c.o.c.ky grin. "Why not? I think you like this."

"You're intolerable," she said. But she couldn't help but smile a little.

"Turn around."

She narrowed her eyes at him. He made a twirling motion with his fingers. Fleur licked her lips nervously and finally turned.

He started working on her hair again, more gently than he had at first, working the flopping pin-curled sections all back together at her neck. He seemed to be taking forever, but Fleur was used to that. She closed her eyes and relaxed into his touch.

When it finally stopped, Fleur opened her eyes and started to turn around, but Dain held her back with one hand while he reached over and fished around in his desk for a rubber band. He put her hair up in what was clearly a pretty sorry ponytail, then twirled her around to face him. "There. So I'm thinking that you should know that the last thing you want to do when you try to pa.s.s through werewolf territory is to dress like a hot-s.h.i.t vampire heiress. You've done this before, right? I mean, you've been around the dogs before in these kinds of situations?"

She answered his questions with her most supercilious stare. "I dressed to impress. And from what I can tell... it works on humans, anyway."

He chuckled. "Point. But we do it my way tonight, because Cyd will have my a.s.s on a plate if we try it any other way."

"Right. So, anything else about my appearance that needs addressing? Or are we done?"

"We need to do something about your makeup." Dain put his hand against her face, his thumb against her lower lip-like the first time they'd met, and yet with different emotion behind it. She could tell he was struggling to hold back. He moved closer, and she could feel his breath on her face.

"What's wrong with my makeup?" Fleur asked, her voice coming out as a whisper.

His hands slid under the edge of her camisole and across her back. "You're wearing too much lipstick," he said. Then he brought his mouth down on hers.

It was as if he'd lit a match at the end of a wick burning toward dynamite; Fleur felt the same fear and antic.i.p.ation. Dain bit softly down on her lower lip, and she was struck with an overwhelming desire-to bite back, harder, and to take the one thing from him that would destroy him forever. To devour him. This was right, so right.

The lure of such an idea, the temptation of his wanting mouth burning into her made her answer back with more pa.s.sion than perhaps he'd meant to draw. But Dain spun her in response, nearly throwing her up against the door. He pressed his body into hers. Fleur arched back and gave in to the sensation of his mouth trailing from her lips to her throat and down, as he caressed his way across her skin.

She closed her eyes, her mind flashing on an image of her mouth on his throat, kissing, biting...

Dain swept her camisole strap back down her shoulder, exposing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as he went down on his knees and dragged her down with him. With her hands tangled in his hair, Fleur let herself go. His mouth moved hot and greedy over her. Wonderfully dizzy, she almost broke apart at the sound of Dain whispering her name on a soft breath.

And then someone tried to open the door. The creak of the doork.n.o.b sounded; Dain stuck his arm out as the door swung in toward the back of Fleur's head, cursed loudly as the wood cracked against his elbow.

"Dain, is that you?"

"Cyd! Uh, yeah-one sec, Cyd," Dain growled, managing to pull Fleur's camisole back up as he got them both off the ground. "You okay?" he asked.

Fleur nodded and pulled away, quickly trying to straighten herself up. The door opened and a sort of grubby, unkempt woman stood on the other side, legs braced apart, arms folded across her chest. In short, Cydney Brighton looked completely una-mused and, by any estimation, less than thrilled to see her.

"Well." Cyd looked from Dain to Fleur and back again. "I'll be in the car. When you two kids feel like getting back to saving the world, you just come on down to the curb." She disappeared and Dain closed the door behind her.

"Something tells me I'll be hearing more about this." He turned back to Fleur and pulled up his T-shirt, using its hem to wipe the smeared lipstick off her mouth. "You know I'm not really good at this sort of thing, but about yesterday... it's not often that I get my a.s.s saved. It was looking pretty grim."

Fleur looked down at his abs. "Marius normally would have let the rogue go, you know." Unable to stop herself; she reached out and ran her hand across his muscles.

He took a hasty step backwards, out of range, and said, "We should get going. Put this jacket on over that slip thing. It's too big, but it'll work better than what you came with."

Fleur slipped into Dain's armored jacket and followed him out the door.

As promised, Cyd sat in the driver seat of the transport, idling the engine. "Play nice," Fleur overheard Dain whisper in her ear as he got in. She shot him a look but to Fleur's surprise, the woman gamely stuck out her hand through the open window.

"Any friend of Dain's," she said.

"I'm so pleased to meet you," Fleur said.

"Don't worry, I'll get over it." She shrugged. "I'm naturally suspicious, and while it's strange for Dain to ask me to reveal an informant to him, it's really strange for him to ask me to reveal an informant to someone else. Not to mention someone like you."

"I think if we work together-," Fleur began.

Cyd quickly showed her a palm. "Save it. If we work together we can all be one big happy city and blah, blah, blah. Whatever. Dain wants me to take you to see one of my informants, that's really all I need to know."

Fleur gave her a frosty look. "I see. Fine."

Dain blew out an exasperated breath. "Let's just get going."

Cyd nodded and opened the back car door, pointing with her thumb into the tiny backseat where the criminals normally sat. Fleur raised her chin and made a point of climbing in with no hesitation.

"I'll have to call out shotgun, next time," she said.

"Not unless you want a bullet through your head, too," Cyd responded under her breath, though clearly intending Fleur to hear. "Destination Dog-town," she said more loudly. "Upon request."

In spite of the close quarters, Fleur was relieved for the opportunity to collect herself in the privacy of the backseat. She ran her index finger over her slightly swollen mouth. Oh, this was something. It wasn't the first time she'd been physical with a man, but it was the first time she'd felt such emotion from a man behind his touch. Even Hayden... She'd heard such longing in Dain's voice and she'd felt it on his lips...

Fleur stared out the window as they drove. Was this the sort of thing that tormented Marius? He was forever involving himself with human women he could never have. From the beginning, as it would be to the end, he'd given in to them only to give them up. Which was what she should have done with Hayden.

All the more reason to remember why she was here. She'd lied, of course, when she'd said that stuff about working together. As it had been for centuries, it was her people versus everybody else. Always. Why was it so hard for her to remember that?

Chapter Fourteen.

Crimson City's underground, flippantly referred to as "Dogtown" by those who didn't actually have wolf blood, belonged to the werewolves as much as the sky belonged to the vampires. That Fleur had never been down there wasn't strange: she'd never seen a dog in Dumont Towers, either.

Cyd parked the transport in some G.o.dforsaken part of the city somewhere near the Triangle. Fleur didn't recognize where she was and, judging from the general squalor and decay of the area, it didn't look like she'd missed anything. Dain's partner, on the other hand, appeared to know the area like the back of her hand.

Dain put his finger to his lips as Cyd started to walk. She seemed to be counting something off in her head as she led them through a maze of narrow streets. Finally, in the shadows by the intersection of an alley and a larger side street lined with abandoned shops plastered with faded for lease signs, the woman stopped and pointed at a manhole.

Through a manhole? She had to be joking. "This makes us look guilty of something," Fleur protested. Dain just shook his head in warning.

Fair enough-him trusting his partner. But Fleur didn't like it. She didn't like sneaking into an unfamiliar subterranean werewolf G.o.d-knew-what when they should have been walking in through the front door as equals. As diplomats.

Cyd reached down to her boot and undipped a metal rod with a hook on the end. She used the hook to pry the manhole cover free as if she'd done so a million times before. The heavy lid clanged as she dropped it to the side. Fleur gave Dain a look, but he just shrugged.

"Stay here until I give you a signal," Cyd said, putting her boot on the first rung and then starting down without hesitation. They could hear her boots on the metal rungs for what seemed like a ridiculous amount of time. Then came a bang and a yelp, more heels on metal rungs, then silence.

Dain's hand suddenly went up to the earpiece of his comm device. Cyd was softly tapping out code on her microphone pad. Dain looked around, then stepped over to the first rung and motioned for Fleur to fall in behind him.

She did. As they made their way down, she realized with disgust that this hole was exactly what it looked like. An overwhelming stench filled the tube and a horrible claustrophobia began to set in. Fleur was used to wide open airs.p.a.ce, freedom to fly, and this smelly tube was almost unbearable. Sweating already, she focused on slow and steady breathing, silently swearing not to make it an issue.

Farther and farther down, she climbed-G.o.d, it seemed to take forever. As she slid against the sides of the narrow tube, cold and grimy sludge smeared over her clothes and her face. Get over it, Fleur. Just get over it. She gritted her teeth. If this was what it took to do her duty to her people, she'd do it. She wasn't going to let either of these humans see she wasn't up to the task, especially because of such a silly thing as this. It almost made her wonder if Cyd had taken this route for the sole purpose of trying to beat her down. But she had too much respect for Dain to think that someone he cared about would be so petty in such a critical situation.

At last, Fleur's boot moved down but there was no rung to place it on; she felt hands around her waist and saw that it was Dain at the bottom, ready to help her down. Cyd was standing there with her arms folded across her chest, a slightly amused expression on her face.

Okay, maybe Dain's partner could be that petty. After all, Fleur could probably be that petty if the situation was reversed. And suddenly Fleur wanted to laugh.

Cyd's eyebrow flew up, but then a smile broke out over the woman's face. She chuckled softly. "Nicely done," she said.

Fleur just smiled back and shrugged.

"Ready for the meeting?" Cyd asked.

"Absolutely," Fleur replied.

Cyd turned around, moved some rocks on the wall, flipped up a well-camouflaged hinged metal flap and revealed a tiny keypad. She typed in a code; there was a clicking sound and then she just took her fist and pounded once as hard as she could against the wall. The noise startled Fleur nearly to death, but even that wasn't as surprising as the sudden entrance to the werewolf's transit system.

They walked through the door and Cyd quickly closed it, sealing the stench and the squalor of the sewers behind them. Then they continued along a fairly slim riser running alongside a set of train tracks. Fleur looked around as she carefully picked her way over the uneven ground.

To one side, the tracks started to trend upward through the tunnel-clearly, that was where the train broached the ground level of the city on the werewolf side of the Triangle. To the other side, the tunnel widened for a boarding platform that was not far around the bend; Fleur could feel the vibrations in the ground from the pa.s.sengers milling about as they waited for the next train, and she could certainly sense who-and what-they were.

The dogs. Dozens of them, just around the bend and down through the tunnel. Fleur stopped short, nearly overcome as a wave of dizziness swept her.

"You okay?" Dain whispered.