In this case, however, Vincent’s desire for secrecy, and Raphael’s tacit endorsement, had made him take a chance on Lana. Especially since he’d sensed no duplicity in her, and, as a powerful vampire, he’d definitely have known. Most humans were imperfect liars. They experienced a physical response to the stress of lying, and a vampire with even modest power could detect these responses. This wasn’t true of sociopaths, but Lana Arnold wasn’t a sociopath. One didn’t live over 150 years among humans without being able to detect the predators among them, especially when one was an accomplished predator himself.
And those thoughts brought him back to the woman lying next to him, sound asleep.
With a slow smile, he shifted oh so carefully, understanding intuitively that if Lana woke, she’d be out of the bed in a flash. She probably hadn’t intended to sleep at all, much less to get so close to him that he could feel the heat of her body along the entire length of his right side.
Pushing up off his stomach and onto his left side, he propped himself up on one elbow and studied her in the darkened room. It was cold and she was covered by only a thin blanket, which was probably why she’d unconsciously moved so close to him, drawn to his warmth. Vampires didn’t run as warm as humans, but they weren’t as cold as some fiction would have them, either. The sensible thing would have been for her to climb under the comforter with him, but she was still pretending she wasn’t attracted to him. Did she realize how much she gave away by choosing not to sleep under the covers with him?
He scooted carefully closer. Lana was lying on her side facing away from him, and she was fully clothed. He rolled his eyes, but wasn’t really surprised. He was surprised, and delighted, to discover that she’d left her hair free from the confines of its perpetual braid. As he’d suspected, it was beautiful—a wavy flow of black silk covering her shoulders and back. Unable to stop himself, he lifted a lock of it and rubbed it between his fingers, finding it every bit as soft and sensuous as it looked. He imagined all that hair sliding over his body as she licked her way down over his belly, as she took him in her mouth . . . and his cock went instantly hard. His thoughts took off, anticipating all the ways he could take her, all the places he could taste her.
He froze as she sighed in her sleep, waiting to see if she’d wake. Twirling the lock of hair around his finger, he lay there, undecided as to whether he wanted her to wake up or not. When her breathing smoothed back into sleep, he smiled and pushed the comforter away from himself, so that the only thing separating them was the sheet. And then he slowly curved his body around hers until his still-hard cock was pressed up against the firm swell of her ass. When she still didn’t stir, he went even further, draping his arm around her waist, releasing the full weight of it slowly until his fingers rested on the bare skin of her taut stomach in the gap between her T-shirt and her unzipped jeans. Lowering his head, he buried his face in the warm silk of her hair and inhaled deeply, taking in her scent. Delicious. Clean, sweet, female.
Minute changes in Lana’s muscles warned him an instant before she woke with a controlled jerk. She lay still, awake and aware, trying to pretend she wasn’t. Vincent wiped the smile off his face and closed his eyes, feigning sleep himself, slitting his eyes open just enough to watch through his lashes as she slowly turned her head to check him out. Her body relaxed upon seeing that he was still asleep, and she began to move slowly, inch by inch, trying to extricate herself from his embrace without waking him. Or, so she thought.
Vincent had to fight to keep the grin off his face, but eventually Lana managed to scoot free of him, continuing until she’d rolled right off the bed and onto her feet. She stood there studying his half-naked and, to her eyes, sleeping body, complete with the erection that she couldn’t see under the sheet, but had undoubtedly felt against her ass. In fact, she stood there staring long enough that Vincent felt his cock beginning to harden even further, hard enough that he could feel it pushing against the covering fabric. Lana must have seen it, too, because she gave a guilty jolt and jerked her gaze up to his face to be sure he was still asleep. Seeing that he was—or so she thought—she blew out a breath, then hurried around the bed and out of sight.
Vincent didn’t move until he heard the bathroom door close and the water start running in the sink. Then he rolled onto his back and stretched luxuriously, while fisting his aching cock. He intended to have Lana Arnold before this was over. Listening to her shuffle around the bathroom, he called back the thought of having all that silky hair flowing over his body, her warm, wet mouth closing over his cock, her teeth scraping gently as she sucked harder and harder . . . He came with a swallowed groan only seconds before the bathroom door opened and Lana peeked out.
“Good evening, Lana,” he said pleasantly, jumping out of bed and heading for the bathroom without any pretense at covering himself.
She managed to control most of her startled reaction and was careful to avoid brushing up against him as he strode past her into the bathroom. But Vincent smiled in satisfaction. She was a tough one, but she wanted him all right.
He took a quick shower, just enough to wash himself off, but he shaved properly, carefully trimming around his beard and mustache. He brushed his teeth and fingercombed his hair, then rattled the doorknob noisily to warn her.
“I’m coming out, Lana,” he called, not bothering to conceal his laughter.
But when he opened the door, she’d already left. The curtains were pulled back, the bed was pulled up, and her duffel was gone. Good thing he had the keys, or she’d probably be on her way to Pénjamo by now. He frowned, then quickly patted the pockets of his jeans to verify that she hadn’t lifted the keys while he’d slept. But no, they were there. He breathed a sigh of relief and began pulling on his clothes, planning for the night ahead.
He’d fed well before retiring this morning, so there was no need to top off before leaving, although the selection in the cantina had been delicious, more than he could have hoped. Marisol had regretfully told him that her lover was new and she didn’t want to stray, but she also understood Vincent’s needs and was not a jealous woman—at least, not where he was concerned. She’d made sure there were plenty of women for him in the cantina, most of them available as sexual partners, too, if that had been his preference. But he hadn’t even considered taking any of them up on it. It would have been in poor taste to have sex with one woman when traveling with another, even if he and Lana weren’t lovers . . . yet. Though he had every intention of making her his lover before the trip was over.
He stomped his feet into his boots and laced them up, then pulled on his jacket, threw the last of his things into his duffel, and with a final look around, left the cottage. Lana was just coming out of the cantina when he walked by on his way to the parking lot.
“Good evening, Lana. Did you get some dinner?” he asked.
She nodded. “More breakfast than dinner, but yeah. It was good. This is a weird schedule you keep, vampire.”
“Not like I have a choice,” he said, with a shrug. “Let me put this in the SUV and say good-bye to Marisol, then we can get out of here.”
“My duffel’s already sitting by the SUV,” she told him, appearing slightly irritated. “I didn’t have the keys to put it inside.”
He could have offered them to her, but he still wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t leave him in the dust. So instead, he said, “I’ll take care of it and come back.”
She nodded. “Marisol’s inside. I think she’s waiting for you.”
Her words were innocuous enough, but the attitude was much more telling. She was very curious about his relationship with Marisol. Maybe he’d tell her about it later if she was nice to him.
The thought made him grin. She caught his smile and narrowed her eyes in growing annoyance. Which only made him grin harder.
“I’ll wait in the SUV,” she told him. “If that’s all right with you.”
“Do you promise not to drive away and leave me?”
Lana rolled her eyes and tsked loudly. “Of course not.”
“So you will leave me?”
“No!” she snapped. “I promise not to leave you, okay?”
“Good enough. Then, here—” He held out his duffel and the keys. “You can take my duffel, and I’ll go say good-bye to Marisol. We can leave sooner that way.”