Games Demons Play (Mystic Isle, Book 3) Read online

  After toweling off, she wrapped it around herself. As usual, the fluffy cotton dwarfed her. She was sick of being so small. So short that she needed nine-inch heels to look Valencia in the eye.

  She moved into the bedroom and looked through the armoire for a robe. She’d rinsed the blood from her shirt and jeans before getting into the shower. Who knew when they’d be dry enough to wear? How had she managed to get herself stuck at some stranger’s house during daylight?

  Intensity aside, he was nice enough. Said all the right things. Tried to put her at ease. And gracious, was he good-looking. She ran her tongue over her fangs. She’d bet her favorite boots that he tasted as good as he looked. Rich. Masculine. Savory.

  She still was not used to drinking the blood. It helped if she tried to think of it as wine, and figure out what characteristics, what flavors the blood would have.

  The armoire was empty, except for sheets and blankets and pillows. It did not matter what he would taste like. She needed to keep her distance. Not fall for the handsome face. She needed to figure out a way out of here. And come up with a plan.

  There was no time, no need, to discover if he was as trustworthy as he appeared, no matter how much her body urged her to.

  A knock at the door had her whirling around.

  “Izzy?”

  She held a hand over her racing heart and clutched the towel with the other. “Yes?”

  “You have a phone call.”

  Her gaze darted around the room. A phone call? No one knew she was here. He was trying to trick her. She turned toward the bathroom.

  “Your phone was in my car,” he said through the door.

  Her phone? Oh. Yes. It hadn’t been in her pocket when she’d set about cleaning her jeans. Her pulse slowed a fraction.

  “Izzy?”

  She glanced back at the bathroom door. Would it be silly to put on her wet clothes just to answer the door? Surely he wasn’t going to—no. He’d had plenty of opportunity.

  “Shall I tell them you’ll call them back?”

  “Them?”

  “Are you decent?”

  Barely. “Come in,” she called, edging closer to the bathroom. She could make it to safety and lock the door before he could make it across the room. She hoped.

  He pushed open the door, her phone in his hand against his massive chest. She rubbed her palms against the towel.

  “You look much better. Your color has returned.”

  Not that she had much color to begin with. Not only was she a miniscule five feet tall, her skin was the color of cream. Year around. Before… she’d been turned, she would burn to a crisp in the summertime. Being a vampire wasn’t that different. Except for the whole blood drinking thing. And flashing. She really wanted to master that.

  She licked her lips.

  He made a sound, low in his throat.

  Her heartbeat quickened and she leaned closer to the bathroom door, despite her urge to find out what else made him groan.

  Obviously sensing her unease, he pulled his shoulders back and offered her an easy smile. Dieu, and she had thought him handsome before. Now he was impossibly gorgeous and her heartbeat kicked up another notch.

  “Pierre thought it was my phone, so he answered.” He held out the device. “Avery and Ceara want to know where you are and if you’re okay. I think that was the message.”

  When she didn’t move to take the phone, he laid it on the end table. His gaze raked over her, then darted toward the bathroom. “I’ll let you finish up.”

  He backed out of the room so slowly she wondered if he was moving in slow motion.

  The second he closed the door behind him, she rushed to her phone.

  “Avery?”

  “Where are you?” Avery practically screeched the question.

  “Are you all right?” Ceara asked, her voice quiet as always.

  “I am fine. I am in Germany, I think.” She wasn’t really sure.

  “What do you mean, you think?” Avery asked. Izzy could almost imagine the look on her coven mate’s face. And Ceara’s too, her big violet eyes wide with worry. “How can you not know? Where’s the car, Izzy?”

  Another good question. “I — ugh — I am not sure.” Well, at least she was honest. That should earn her some points, right?

  “What do you mean you’re not sure? Izzy, Valencia’s going to flip her lid.”

  “I know this!” Izzy’s heart ached and her eyes watered. Why had she not resisted the urge? What made her think she would not get caught. Sadly, this was not the first time her impulsiveness had bit her in the behind. Far from it. Would she ever learn her lesson?

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Izzy? Who was that man that answered your phone?” Ceara asked.

  Did they have to team up on her? She was feeling miserable enough without playing twenty questions.

  “I am okay.” Thanks to Shade. “That was Pierre.”

  “Please don’t tell me you picked up a man in V’s car,” Avery said.

  Avery was such a… what did Coco call her? A rule follower.

  “No. I did not.” She would not have done that. It had been a… joyride. Yes. Nothing more.

  “Is the sun up there?”

  Izzy couldn’t be sure, not with the curtains drawn. But she guessed that it was and told them so. “Well, as soon as it’s dark, get back here. Put the Bugatti in the garage so Renaldo can clean it. And we’ll keep this among ourselves. Deal?”

  Izzy was amazed that Avery would keep her secret. Her eyes watered again.

  “Deal,” Ceara said.

  “Izzy? Deal?” Avery prodded.

  “I —” Izzy licked her lips and sat down on the edge of the couch. “I had an accident.”

  The silence on the line was so long she thought the call had dropped.

  “Avery?”

  “Sorry, Iz. I was just trying to figure out what we should write on your tombstone. She saved you once, do you really think she’ll do it again?”

  “I feel bad enough without your harping.” Izzy dropped her forehead against her hand.

  “God, Iz. I’m sorry.”

  “Can you make it home? Do you need us to come get you?” Ceara asked. “I could send Maxim.”

  Everyone in the mansion, including the new girl, knew that Izzy could not flash worth a darn. They said it was because she’d only been turned two years ago and was so young. Izzy was not sure she believed them. Either way, she was stuck here. Wherever here was. At least until nightfall.

  “I-I do not know. I do not know if I am coming home.” In the two years since Valencia had turned her, saving her from the beyond, she had come to think of the mansion as a home of sorts. But there was still something missing.

  She was used to the feeling. She’d lived her entire life feeling like something important, some part of her existed just outside of her grasp. Hopefully one day she’d find something more than contentment.

  “Come on, Iz. It can’t be that bad.”

  “It is worse. I am sure it is wrecked. How do you say? Totalled.”

  “How could you total — nevermind. It can be fixed. Or replaced.”

  “I have thought of this.” The fixing. Replacing would bring a whole other set of problems she wasn’t prepared for.

  There was a long pause. They must all be thinking the same thing. This was an expensive problem to fix. Their monthly allowance did not cover million-dollar automobiles. Certainly not multi-million-dollar luxury French automobiles.

  “Well, the first step is to get you home. We’ll take it from there.”

  “I have a plan.” Why had she said that? She had no plan. Not a solid one anyway. But it was her problem. She had created it. It was up to her to fix it. She nodded to herself. “I will win the money.”

  “Win it?” Ceara asked.

  “Yes. I am good at the cards. I will win it.”

  “Izzy — I don’t think —”

  A knock at the door startled her. “Mademoisselle?” The thick wood muffled
Pierre’s voice.

  Izzy relaxed. “Avery, Ceara. I must go. I will call again soon.”

  Avery argued but Izzy closed the phone.

  “Yes?” she called.

  “Shade said you have some wet clothes.” Izzy frowned. How did he know that? “I could dry them, if you wish.”

  Dry would be good. She glanced at the wet garments, hanging from the towel bar in the bathroom, and then at the solid wood door that led to the hall.

  She’d let him dry her clothes. Then she would take a short nap. Just enough to get her mind together so she could finish devising her plan.

  He was coming for her. Terror held her in place but her mouth opened and the full sound of panic tore from her lips.

  “Izzy?”

  She knew that voice.

  She had to get away. Run. Do something. Fight back. Hide. Create a scene. She would live if she just kept screaming.

  “Izzy!”

  The sound of her name, not quite human but not a roar either, jerked her from the dream. When she opened her eyes, Shade was stalking toward her. His handsome face was carved with concern. Hand over her heart, she struggled for calm.

  “Are you okay?”

  He squatted down in front of her, his gaze searching hers. Despite the lingering unease from her dream, she felt a trickle of relief. There was something about him… the longer she studied him the more she found herself wanting to trust him. Perhaps it was the earnest look, or his quiet-but-ready strength.

  “Fine.” She licked her lips and noticed how his eyes tracked the movement.

  “You were screaming. Bad dream?”

  Her hands hurt. She must have been balling them up into fists. It certainly wasn’t the first bad dream she’d had lately.

  Why was he staring at— He’d asked her a question… She nodded. “I am sorry if I disturbed you.”

  “Don’t be. I was just coming to check on you. How are you feeling?”

  What would it be like to be with a man so big… protective… capable? Since the moment she had woken up in his arms on the side of the road he had been taking charge, handling things. But never had he made her feel like a victim. A lesser. Helpless.

  If anything, she felt… cherished.

  “Tired.” And hungry. “I do not sleep much.”

  She closed her eyes to blot him out. She just needed a little more rest, then she’d be ready to tackle her problems.

  “Izzy. Honey, look at me.”

  He pressed something against her throat. “Your heart is racing. When was the last time you had a good meal?”

  “Do not remember,” she murmured. But it was a good question. Yesterday sometime, probably. Had it really only been yesterday? She’d been out of the mansion half a day and her whole life felt… changed.

  “You didn’t take much in the car. You need to drink.”

  The couch dipped next to her. In the car? She didn’t remember—what was he talking about?

  She opened her eyes and started to ask him, but he was reaching for her.

  “Come here.”

  Why was he so nice? Why—

  She felt an arm circle her back. Another curved beneath her knees. She blinked up at him as he settled her in his lap.

  “Drink.”

  She had never gotten the hang of drinking… from the source. They did not have anyone at the mansion on tap.

  “Izzy… drink.”

  He did look like he’d taste good. Drawn to his heat, she nuzzled his neck. Nice. So nice. So warm.

  Her fangs pierced his skin before she made up her mind to bite him. Blood filled her mouth, and he groaned. The sound vibrated through him, through her lips. Delicious. Warm. Rich.

  Each sip replenished her. Her heartbeat slowed and she no longer heard the pounding in her ears. So good. Her vision cleared and the room slowed to a stop.

  He tasted familiar. Like the most delicious candy that had ever melted on her tongue. She would gladly rob the candy shop to take her fill.

  Her nipples beaded beneath the towel and she became acutely aware of how naked she was underneath.

  She tightened her grip around his neck. God, how she needed this. Her energy was returning. Stronger. More intense. She felt light and yet solid in a way she had never before experienced. Like she could leap across valleys.

  After retracting her fangs she licked the wounds closed. Oh. Wow. What a drug. So rich. She pulled back, studying the strong column of his throat. There wasn’t a hint of a beard. When had he shaved? And why was she so turned on?

  “Better?”

  “Much.” She couldn’t lie. His blood was potent. She wanted more.

  “Good.”

  She ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “What are you?” And why did his blood make her feel so warm? So… gooey?

  “I thought you’d already figured that out, little vamp.” He tipped his head forward. Two small horns peeked out from his long black hair.

  Demon.

  She smiled. Demons were fun. And sexy.

  Is that right?

  His voice filled her mind. Then he laughed. Hearty. Pleased. She liked the sound of it.

  “Did you reassure your friends?”

  Her friends. Oh, gosh. Why was she still sitting on his lap? She scurried off him, clutching the towel around her.

  He leaned back on the couch and crossed his arms across his massive chest. Dear God, he was built. Like a nuclear power plant. She was pretty sure that his biceps were bigger around than her thighs. But despite all that, he did not seem threatening.

  The opposite. He’d saved her… how many times? She tallied the number up in her mind. Once, perhaps, when her car crashed. Then from impending daylight. If he were to be believed, she’d taken his blood in the car. And once now on the couch. Four. Four times he’d saved her life.

  Why?

  Why had he asked for nothing in return?

  “No need to be modest on my account.”

  Izzy was not normally one for false modesty. But there was something about him that she found… no. It was the situation. It was unsettling. Like if she lost her head once, it would be all over. She did not deny herself of many things. Especially not drop-dead gorgeous demons. But this one… she squinted, trying to put her finger on it. He was different.

  If things were different, had she not wrecked Valencia’s car, she would straddle his thighs and see where things led. But things were not different. She needed to focus on repaying her debt to Valencia.

  Shade could see the confusion in her eyes. She didn’t trust him. And why would she? They hardly knew each other. And from everything he could tell about her, she kept herself guarded.

  Why then, did her body tremble against his? Why had those sweet little sounds tumbled from her as she’d drunk from him? Why did he scent her arousal? She wanted him, but she was not willing to act on it.

  He wouldn’t pressure her. No. When he took her, she would be begging him for it.

  He smiled to himself.

  Yes. Begging and crying his name.

  He sat forward on the couch, forearms braced against his knees. Gently, he entered her mind again. She was a flurry with plans. Desperate to make enough money to repair Gorgeous.

  Who named their car?

  “So what’s this plan you’ve come up with?”

  She frowned for a split second. “Cards. I can win it.”

  Of all the answers he’d considered, that was not on the list. “Cards? Like poker?”

  She nodded.

  “Are you any good?”

  There was a long pause. She stared into his eyes, confidence coming to her like a gossamer cloak. Then she gave a single, succinct nod. “Yes.”

  If that was the case, why had he never seen her before? Well, she was young. And he’d been out of the hunt for a while.

  “You really think you can win two and a half million dollars at the poker tables?” Hell, he’d been a professional for ten years and the most he’d ever won in a singl
e event was twelve. She’d have to play high.

  “Two and a half —”

  He watched worry, anxiety, and disbelief flash across her face. It was there in her eyes, the pinch of her brow, the microscopic movements in the muscles around her seductive mouth. But there was something else too. Regret maybe? Pain?

  Then her lips flattened into a kissable line and she pulled her shoulders down and back. Her chin came up and her confidence came back.

  “I have to.”

  He liked her determination. She took responsibility for her situation, and had come up with this solution. Flawed as it was. He gave her a single nod to show her he understood.

  “Where will you go? Monte Carlo?” And why was it on the tip of his tongue to tell her he’d be happy to take her anywhere she wanted? Why did he feel so goddamn protective where she was concerned?

  Her icy-blue eyes focused on him. For a brief second, he felt cold. Then hot. She licked her lips again.

  “Mystic Isle.”

  Oh hell.

  Chapter Five

  About an hour after Shade excused himself there was another knock at the door. They were so polite. Something told her that Pierre was — what was it Avery said? Old school? Old-fashioned?

  “Yes?”

  “Mademoiselle, I have your clothes.”

  Izzy pushed away from the headboard and strode to the door. “Thank you.” She took the clothes and smiled up at him. He reminded her of a grandfather. Old. Gray. Kind.

  But not feeble. His vampire strength must give him that.

  “Shade has told me you plan to leave us.”

  She nodded. “I must go to Mystic Isle.”

  “Oh?”

  Her grin widened. He sounded slightly scandalized. Surely he’d had sex in his life. “It is not what you think. I need to win money to pay a debt.”

  “At the casino.”

  “At the poker tournament this weekend.”

  His salt-and-pepper eyebrows rose.

  “What is it?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest. When would men stop underestimating her?