Page 65 of White Raven
He leaned in and pressed himself against her, brushing his lips over the shell of her ear. “Arguing that is a battle you’ll lose,corbeau blanc.” The sound of his voice speaking to her in another language sent instant heat to her core, and she pressed her thighs together.
“The hell did you just call me?” Sarah whispered, snorting a laugh that earned the same from him at her ear. He pressed a kiss to the scar on her neck.
“White Raven.” He dropped the towel to the counter, reaching down and lifting her up to sit while he situated himself between her legs.
“Explain yourself,” Sarah said, closing her eyes while he trailed his mouth up and down her neck…along her collarbone. His hands gripped her hips, and the smell of leather andcigarettes with the oil from cleaning his gun had her twining her legs around him and pulling him closer.
“I fucking adore you, Sarah. There’s so much about you that’s so dark…insane. Your mind is sharp. You’re smart…fierce…beautiful. You might be a vampire now, and you’re a vicious killer. But that’s not who you are, love. There’s more good in that darkness that I love about you than there is anything else. You’re not like the rest of uscrows. You’re different.” He raised his face and leaned his head against hers, tracing her jawline with a finger. “And you’re mine.” Sarah laid her hand over his against her face, and he turned his head, kissing the inside of her wrist—over her raven tattoo. “Whatever we’ve found ourselves in…I’m eternally grateful for it. I’ll take you wherever you’d like to go to personally thank whoever we can for the way we came together.”
“I love you.” It was a genuine admission but sounded like a desperate plea leaving her mouth. “Thank God you were such a bloodthirsty savage with zero chill,” she smiled against his mouth. “You’re everything a girl wants in a healthy relationship, you know?”
Athan chuckled, those damned fangs grazing her bottom lip. “Indulge me.”
Her hands slipped under the hem of his shirt, raising it as she glided her palms up his chilled skin. “An asshole,” she whispered, lifting it off and tossing it to the floor. “A serial killer…” Her shirt was off next. “A thief…” Sarah squeezed her thighs around him and spoke against his lips, running her hands through his hair. “A liar…”
“Having second thoughts, St. James?” The way his voice purred through that devious smirk and thosefuckingpointed teeth. That fire that lit up in his eyes that she’d die to play with.
“Yeah,” she whispered, sliding her fangs past her lip and her tongue across his. “I’ve never liked these counters.”
CHAPTER 13
BURIED
It had been an exceptionally long time since he’d set foot at this doorstep. It still smelled the same, though it felt like a cold, hollow void where time went still, and even the sounds of happenings around him seemed to null out. His chest felt like an elephant had just parked itself on it, the heart underneath pounding like it was struggling through thick mud. Foley’s rehearsed words were lost on him as he subconsciously rang the doorbell and listened to footsteps approaching the frosted glass door. It opened a few seconds later, and for a heartbeat, he saw Lindsay—a much younger, delicate version—standing between the open space between the edge of the door and the latch.
“Yeah?” she asked, furrowing her brows when his throat closed off and he didn’t announce himself. “You need some help? Need an ambulance?” Her face dropped into worry, and she stepped a bare foot out onto the freezing brick porch to reach her hand out and steady him.
Foley snapped out of it, conceding a step and shaking off his anxiety. “Sorry—you’re…are you Brynn Trainor?” The young woman brushed back her strawberry blonde hair and hugged herself against the chilly air, staring at him in confusion.
“Yeah? Who are you?” She had freckles dotting the bridge of her nose that spread out over her high cheekbones…just like her mother. Her soft green eyes focused on him as she backed up towards the open door.
“Malcolm?” another voice said from the dining room just past the foyer, his heavy footsteps nearing his daughter. Brynn looked over her shoulder as he stepped out and eyed him closely.
“Scott…it’s good to see you.” Lindsay’s husband looked anything but reciprocating of the captain’s feelings, tugging his daughter back into the door.
“Brynn, go finish packing,” he urged, as she looked curiously between them. She seemed as if she were about to argue, but her mouth pressed closed when Scott looked at her in warning. She disappeared a moment later and he closed the door behind him. “What are you doing here, Malcolm?”
“I know I promised never to darken your door again. I wouldn’t be unless it was for good reason. Can we talk?”
“I didn’t have anything else to say to you then, Foley, and I sure as hell don’t now. There isn’t a reason good enough for you to show up to this house.”
“I deserve that.”
“You deserve the same fate my wife suffered. I’m gonna ask you again, and you better have a better answer, or I might decide that I don’t give a shit and have Brynn call that ambulance for you anyway.”
He was bitter. And he had every right to be. His wife was dead because of him and finding out about their affair after she’d already passed certainly didn’t make his suffering any easier. Over a decade later, and that pain and ruthless anger was still as sharp as a knife. There was no way Foley could ever blame him for the way he lashed out. It was as deserving a punishment as any. Foley lowered his eyes to the porch and pocketed his hands.
“There’s a case that’s opened up that involves Lindsay. I came to ask if you’re still in possession of anything she may have been working on at home in the months prior to her death.”
Scott inched forward; his body stick straight. “What case?”
“I’m not authorized to say. It could give us some answers though…about the circumstances surrounding her murder.”
Scott huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Oh, those answers are already out in the open,Captain…and you’ve got a lot of nerve. The only one responsible for her murder is standing here enjoying the promotion she should have had. You should be the one rotting in that casket. Not Lindsay.”
There was only so much he was willing to take. While that affair and the events that followed ultimately landed on him, he hadn’t been holding a gun to her head to participate. He’d only hold so much of that blame. She had been going behind his back and getting mixed up in something bigger that he was determined to find…one way or another. Foley raised his face and broadened his chest.
“Alright, Trainor. You’ve got every right to hate me. I’ll let you have that if it makes you feel better. Lindsay got herself mixed up with shit she shouldn’t have been mixed up in, and had I known, I would have protected her. I failed at that, and I take my share of responsibility. If you have anything that can help me tie this together, I’m giving you a chance to surrender it. If you’re gonna play hard ball, I’ll get a warrant and find it myself. That’s only gonna make this more painful, and that’s the last thing I wanna do. But I’ve already let precious blood spill for my mistakes. I won’t be doing that again. So, what’s it gonna be?”
