"No, I have to go. It's a work thing."
His tone was clipped. She tried not to take offense, but it was hard. "Don't tell me you're one of those workaholic types. If we get married, I don't want to have to schedule face time with you on your BlackBerry."
He passed his hand over her head. "No, never."
"But it's so early."
He tied off a boot and sighed. "I have a 6:00 a.m. conference call with Brussels. I need my laptop, I need to review some papers, I really have to go now."
He's lying. Helena frowned. Why did she think that? He gave her an apologetic kiss. His lips were hard—he was nervous. "I'll make it up to you tonight."
Helena could not help pressing, testing. "Do you have to work all day? I don't. We could…I don't know, have lunch, go somewhere. I could show you the highlights of Boulder, it's not New York, but—"
"Helena." There was that sigh again. "I can't see you until five. I'll miss you all day long. But I have to go now." He shrugged into his long overcoat and began to walk away.
She ran after him, dragging the quilt with her. "Wait, hold on. What's going on, Alex?"
"Nothing. I told you—"
"You're lying."
His lips twisted into a bitter little smile. He was lying. "We'll talk tonight. I'll explain everything."
Helena's heart froze. Something was wrong. "Explain now."
"No."
She blinked and he was at the front door, his hand on the knob.
"I have to be in my hotel room by six, Helena. That's the truth. I swear I will be back here just after five. You have to trust me."
Helena clutched the quilt around her, her head aching with confusion and threatening tears. Trust? Last night he had forced his way into her heart and now—weirdness. Lies. Of course there would be weirdness. Of course he was too good to be true.
In three angry strides he was back in front of her, squeezing her shoulders. "Say you believe me."
"Believe what, Alex? Believe you can't wait to get out of here? Believe that I'll never see you again?"
His hands hurt her shoulders. "Believe that I love you."
Love? Right. The tears started. She couldn't help it. Her cynical inner voice, the one that always watched and never helped, said, What a pathetic scene. Alex took her face between his hands and licked away her tears. She broke away and grabbed her bag from the entryway table, found one of her cards and thrust it at him.
"Go. Go wherever you have to go so bad. But call me later today and we'll decide if you should come back tonight."
His head did a funny twitching thing. "If?"
Jerk. Arrogant jerk. "I said 'if'."
"I'm coming back tonight."
"You can't lie to me and boss me around and put me off and expect that I'll play nice with you. I'm not your doormat."
The son of a bitch actually glanced at his watch. He couldn't even keep his mind on fighting with her. Boiling over, she shouted, "Get the hell out of my house!"
Next thing she knew, she was against the wall and he was all over her, his mouth bruising hers. She slammed her fists against the sides of his head. Blood ran between their searching mouths and fed a current of desire so powerful that it hurt, need which ripped a trail from her mouth down to her aching, empty cunt. The quilt was gone. She was naked under him. His sweater tore at her tender nipples. One of his hands parted her thighs. The other opened his fly.
Oh yes—oh no—oh God.
His eyes wild, he caught her right hand and wrapped her fingers around his pulsing cock. "I need you."
"Tell me why you're leaving."
In answer he kissed her and kept kissing her, his cock and her fist pressed against her belly. Even though she wanted to shove him away, to hold on to some pride, she couldn't help but kiss him back. To take what she could before the cold aftermath closed in. The inevitable pain.
"If—" She started to say "If I let you come back," but he took hold of her chin.
"When."
"If!"
"Never." Eyes wild, pained, he shook his head. He lifted her right knee and guided her hand, still holding his cock, between her legs. "I won't leave." His voice was as tortured as his expression.
She could have run. Could have hit him. Done anything. But she succumbed to the emptiness in her. The urgency in him. He was a burning brand. She took him inside, wrapped herself around him with a low, miserable moan.
He thrust into her again and again. Breaking her down. Until there was nothing between them but unbound need. The pictures around them swung on their hooks.
No man had ever made her feel this way. No man. Ever. Never again. Glass shattered all around them, and she shattered too. Sobbing, jerking against him, biting into the thick wool of his coat. He was leaving. He wouldn't come back.
Next thing she knew, she was on the floor, surrounded by broken glass and bent picture frames. The quilt was over her and through the open door she saw Alex sprinting down her drive like he was running for his life.
Alex had parked his new rental car maybe a quarter of a mile away—there were no blocks to measure by out here in the hills and hollers. The idea being not to draw police attention. Now he cursed his caution. As he ran, he checked his watch every few seconds, as if that would help. The hotel wasn't too far away. This early, he could speed, run a few lights, drive straight into underground parking and he'd be fine.
But this was way too close. Crazy close. He'd kill himself over this woman. He'd kill himself with his own stupidity. When she told him not to come back, he lost it. Just lost it. And gave her another reason to hate him.
Or did she? He remembered her arms around his neck, her voice in his ear, urging him on. Or was that a fantasy?
Distracted by these thoughts, he rounded a bend and ran straight into the path of a police cruiser. It screeched to a stop. Two cops jumped out of the cruiser, weapons drawn.
"Freeze," said one. "Let me see your hands."
Alex put his hands up. Bullets killed vampires. Enough of them did, no matter what the bullshit myths said. "What's this about?"
"Do you live in this neighborhood, sir?"
The sky was an ominous shade of violet, a color that made him sick with dread. This would be a great time for some vampiric mind control trick, but that took focus and he couldn't think straight. His cock was wet with Helena, the taste of her blood was in his mouth. He was more like an animal than a master of the night. All the small hairs on his body were standing up, warning of a threat that had nothing to do with the police. He breathed in explosive gasps and grasped for a plan.
"Hands behind your head."
Alex obeyed. A siren sounded far away, but coming up the road. Backup. One cop approached him with cuffs, the other covered him from a distance.
The cop moved behind him. "Do you have ID?"
"In my pocket."
Exploding into action, he sent his elbow into the cop's throat and flew toward the other, toward the bullet, which whistled by his ear. He was on the cop before he could pull the trigger a second time. A second later he was crouching in the trees by the side of the road. What the hell was he supposed to do now? How could he drive his car down the road with cops coming up it?
Pink streaks were breaking over the horizon and the sleeping town was just beginning to stir under brilliant color. Motherfucking true dawn. He'd only seen the waking sky from his loft windows, with his fingers on steel shutters, ready to pull them shut.
And now he was out in the middle of goddamn nowhere with cops on his heels. A house sat higher up the hill, a few golden lights burning in its windows, the smell of frying ham drifting out of the kitchen. It would have a basement. He turned toward the house, got within twenty feet of the basement window, only to hear two big dogs barking inside.
This was not going to work. He thrust his hand into his pocket and checked for the space blanket there. It was not as reassuring as he hoped it would be, but it was something.