Bittersweet Blood (The Order #1)

After a few minutes, he got out of the car still holding her. He didn’t release her until he lowered her onto the bed in his apartment below CR International.

His image blurred through the tears. He tugged off her boots, kicked off his shoes, and climbed onto the bed, pulling her into his arms and wrapping her in the folds of the bedspread.

She felt frozen to the core. Tremors shivered through her, and she couldn’t seem to stop them. Christian stroked her hair, and after a few minutes, he picked up the telephone beside the bed.

She sensed rather than saw Graham enter the room. He came to stand beside the bed.

“Is there anything I can do?” Graham asked.

“Go run a bath, red hot. We need to warm her up. Then make us some coffee.”

“No problem.”

Christian stroked her again. “Tara, come on sweetheart, sit up. We need to get you warm.”

Tara didn’t want to move but she finally struggled into a sitting position. She didn’t want to think either, and she followed automatically as Christian led her into the bathroom. At any other time, she would have marveled at the place. It was a sybarite’s dream in marble and gold, but it barely registered. Steam filled the air, heavy with the scent of herbs and spices.

She allowed Christian to remove her clothes. He swung her into the enormous bath and she sank down until the hot water covered her to her chin.

“Try and relax,” he said.

He turned to go but Tara grabbed his hand. “Don’t leave me.”

He stared down at her for a moment before stripping off his own clothes. He stepped into the bath behind her, and sat so she could lie in the V of his thighs. The water cooled and he added more hot. Tara washed herself as though she could scrub the smell of death from her skin.

When the water cooled again, Christian lifted her from the bath, wrapped her in a huge, soft towel, and carried her back to the bed. After drying them both, he slipped under the covers with her, and held her until her trembling stopped, and she fell into a light sleep of exhaustion.

Tara woke to utter darkness. Christian still held her tightly against him, and she struggled to free herself from his embrace. She flicked on the small lamp beside the bed. It was already midday.

Suddenly she remembered that Jamie was still searching for Chloe. Oh, God, how could she tell him? What did she tell him?

There was a phone on the table by the bed. She picked it up and stared at it. Then punched in the numbers.

She almost hoped he wouldn’t pick up, but he did after the first ring as though he was waiting.

“Tara?”

“Jamie.” She paused unable to go on.

“Tara? What is it?”

She swallowed, forcing back the tears that threatened to overflow. She was done with crying. “We found Chloe. She’s dead, Jamie.” Jamie was silent but she could hear his ragged breathing. “Jamie?”

“Are you still with Christian Roth?”

“Yes.”

“Stay there.” The line went dead.

She put the phone back. Christian’s eyes were open. “Are you going to be okay?”

She nodded. “Not quite there yet, but I think you’re safe from anymore tears.”

“I don’t mind. Cry if it helps.”

“But it doesn’t, does it? Nothing will bring her back or take away her last days. I have to learn to live with that, and I will, but Christian—”

“Yes?”

“Tell me that we will find the people who did this, and we will make them pay.”

He took her hand and kissed her palm. “I promise.”

…

The day seemed endless. Tara hadn’t been able to sleep any more. She’d gotten up, leaving Christian to do whatever it was that vampires did during the day.

She was pretending to read when he finally emerged from the bedroom that evening. He’d pulled on a pair of black pants but was otherwise naked. His chest was pale, like marble, perfectly sculpted.

“I missed you,” he said.

She went to him, slid her arms around his waist, and laid her head on his bare chest. He kissed her, a slow, drugging kiss. Then raised his head and stared down into her eyes. “How are you?” he asked.

“I’m going to be fine.”

“Good. Are you up to seeing this warlock?”

“Try leaving me here.”

He smiled. “I haven’t set up a meeting, I wanted to take him by surprise, and I’ve had men watching his place all day. They just called in. He’s there.” He kissed her again, nuzzled her throat, his tongue stroking the sensitive spot where her shoulder met the slender column of her neck. “We can get this over with and then I’m going to bring you back here and make slow love to you for the rest of the night.”

His voice was low and husky and started a fire burning, low in her belly. For a moment, he held her close, and then released her. “We have to go.”

Less than as hour later, they stood outside a rundown pub in the east end of London. A sign above the door said “The Pointed Hat.” This was about as far from the bright lights of the west end as it was possible to get, and Tara scrutinized the building dubiously.