Chapter 16
As she sashayed toward him, Oliver’s senses reeled.
A haze descended on him, the red of her dress mingling with the red heat of craving, like a drug addict desperate for a fix.
No matter how hard he tried, he could not drag his eyes away.
She was wearing a black wig, cut into a geometric bob that accentuated her jawline.
Her lips were red to match her dress, and winged eyeliner defined her eyes, making them smoky and sultry.
Her body, he couldn’t help notice, had filled out a little in the past three years; her tits were bigger, her hips fuller.
She looked like a fucking movie star.
His cock hardened as he took in the full milky moons of her breasts, the little flick of thigh as she walked toward him and Saul.
He sensed even the happily married orc’s eyes were popping out of his skull.
It would be amusing if it wasn’t so deeply disturbing.
“How do I look?” She struck a pose, hands on hips, her chin tilted, her eyes flashing straight at him. She was goading him, wasn’t she?
Oliver forced a twist to his lips and arched his brows.
“Great,” Saul said in a slightly strangled voice.
When Oliver said nothing, she kicked out her leg to show even more thigh. Gods, he could almost see her panty line.
Her lips pursed, head cocked, she said, “Thoughts, sir?”
He gave a curt nod. “You’ll do.”
He thought he heard her snort. But since he’d already turned away to get the device off the table, he may have imagined it. He steadied his slightly shaking hands, willing himself to be the cold ruthless vampire he’d once been.
Except it didn’t work with Clare. It never had. Something about her had inveigled itself into his chest cavity and nestled close to his heart, and no matter how hard he tried to dislodge her, she didn’t budge.
More than a thorn in his side, she was a dagger in his heart.
Yeah, right. That fits.
Grimly, he turned to the table where the necklace lay, its centerpiece a tiny camera.
And next to the necklace were mock diamond earrings, one of which would act as a microphone.
There was a phoenix, a jeweler who had worked for years on these tiny devices, the only one who could make them so meticulously that no other monster could ever tell.
“Saul,” Oliver barked, holding out the necklace. “Do the honors, put this on Clare, will you?”
Saul backed away. “You’re better at this shit than me, Hale. You’ve fitted far more of these devices than I have.”
“You do it,” Oliver growled.
Then Clare said, “I’d feel more confident if you did it, sir.”
He reeled back around to find her eyes, smoky and sultry, challenging him. He couldn’t refuse now, not without looking churlish.
“Very well. Step closer,” he said, through gritted teeth. “Saul, double check I’m placing these correctly for sound and visuals, please.” He tried to sound casual as she stepped closer and turned her back, exposing the nape of her long neck.
Ah, the scent of her… He knew at once she had on the same perfume as that night. Memories swirled around his brain, alighting on every synapse and setting them on fire.
Fighting lust, he ground his teeth so hard it was a wonder they weren’t dust in his mouth.
He willed his fingers not to shake as he circled the necklace around her neck.
He willed his gaze not to stray to the line of her vertebrae, the soft milky white skin of her neck, but his fingers brushed the pulse in her throat as he looped the fine chain around it.
Fuck! He fumbled like a fool, and she moved, subtly, so that her butt cheeks skimmed close to his groin. His cock twitched alarmingly.
He almost snarled out loud at his own lack of self-control.
Finally, he got the damn thing done up. “There,” he muttered, his voice sounding thick and viscous to his own ears. “Saul, check if the camera is working, please.” He stepped back, desperate for a moment’s reprieve.
“All good, clear as day,” Saul called back.
Oliver took the earrings and handed them to her. “I’ll let you put these on yourself.”
She stared him in the eyes. “Could you place them?”
She tilted her head to one side. He had no choice but to step forward and clip on one earring, all the time trying to ignore the pale blue vein at her throat.
His fangs twinged, saliva filled his mouth and his cock obligingly pulsed harder.
He clipped on the other earring.
Now step away, man.
He should, but she glanced up at him and her eyes met his for a brief second, and in that moment, time stood still.
Her lips parted and an almost inaudible breath escaped her as she stared up at him. It felt for all the world like he was falling off a precipice into deep dark water, never to resurface.
“Thank you, sir,” she said softly.
Then Saul butted in, and the spell was broken. “Could you say something, Hale? I have your image clear as day on the screen from the necklace, but I need to check the mic works.”
What the fuck was he supposed to say?
“Clare—" It came out cracked over the sound system. Just her name, from his parched dry lips, like an incantation, a prayer, a supplication. He cleared his throat. “You’re all set,” he finished lamely.
“Great, all recordings are working,” Saul said. “Look at how clear the camera footage is.” Oliver forced himself to move, his legs stiff with tension. He watched the screen as Saul played back the footage.
The camera picked up the raw desire written all over his fucking his face.
“Wipe it,” he said in a strangled voice, and stormed out of the room.
When the door slammed behind Oliver, Clare couldn’t help a secret little smile.
Good, she’d got to him.
But despite this small victory, the quickening of her pulse and the sweet heat at her core told her he’d damn well got to her too.
The nearness of him, the scent of his cedar and wood smoke cologne had catapulted her back to him holding her in his arms, kissing her so ardently that she would have gladly given him her soul.
You still would.
No way. Fuck him. The guy was a chauvinistic bastard. And really, how could he not be at his age? He grew up in another era. He must have seduced so many women. Shame on her weak flesh!
Saul grumbled, “Hale’s fucking tetchy tonight.”
“Yeah. Seems so.”
“It means a lot to him, solving this case.”
“Sure.”
“He’d give his eye teeth to get Kominsky.”
Her lips twitched. “Unfortunate choice of language there, buddy.”
Saul struck his forehead with his palm. “Honestly, do you know how many puns have come out of my mouth about fangs and wings and fucking bats in bell towers since he got back here? I embarrass myself daily.”
“I doubt he takes any of it personally.” She shrugged.
“I dunno, he seems to have had a humor bypass lately.”
Clare said nothing. Saul checked his watch. “I wonder how long he’ll be?”
As he spoke, Oliver strode back into the room, threw himself into a chair, and turned to Saul. “Shoot. Give me the plan for the evening.”
“Clare goes to The Den at 7 pm. We wait around the corner in an unmarked van, where we can intervene if there’s any need.”
“There won’t be,” Clare interjected smoothly.
Oliver threw her a withering glance. “Oh, you’re sure of that are you?”
“Pretty much.” She jutted her chin. “It’s just a simple reconnaissance exercise.”
His lips twisted. “Ah, the confidence of youth.”
“It has its advantages, sir.”
He merely grunted and resumed his conversation with Saul, like she was inconsequential. Anger flared white and bright inside her. Damn him, this had been her idea, she was the central player, how dare he be so condescending.
“If anything untoward happens, we also have three unmarked cars in the vicinity with backup,” Saul said.
“Three? That’s a bit over the top.” She found herself protesting, for no good reason other than to be a pain in Oliver’s ass. “Like I said, it’s just information gathering at this stage.”
“You’re undercover. Backup is standard policy,” Oliver barked at her. “Stop being a prima donna, Clare, and suck it up.”
She glared at him, pissed that he’d got the measure of her recalcitrance. She had an image of her palm slapping that handsome smug face of his. How satisfying that would be. Three years’ worth of satisfaction.
“Must be the dress, sir, making me sassy,” she said, sweet as honey, and couldn’t help an internal high-five when she saw his face flush dark.
He stood up abruptly. “Save the sass for the cocktail party,” he growled and stalked ahead of them to the door, turning and surveying them through narrowed eyes.
“And get a move on, we’ve got missing humans to find.”