Roaring Dawn: Macey Book 3 (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 10)(53)

“Pretty damned good? That’s not good enough—” Max grumbled, then stopped abruptly.

Macey got the impression Savina had kicked him, and she smiled to herself. She really did like Savina.

“Al Capone—Alphonsus—wears a vest like that some of the time,” Macey went on. “He’d had the corset made for me when I was—when we were working together.” She glanced at the back of Grady’s head as a swath of streetlight passed through the car, knowing he despised the gangster and his ilk. But there was nothing to indicate whether he was listening or not. “It’s not very comfortable, but I thought it would be a good idea to wear it, since Flora had already demonstrated her propensity for using bullets as well as her fangs.”

They pulled up in front of Grady’s house, and Macey climbed out quickly, her stomach in knots. Almost over. Just get your things and get the hell out of here.

Chas paused on the sidewalk in front of the porch. “This is where I take my leave,” he said.

Macey embraced him, and he planted a quick, smacking kiss on her lips. “Be strong, lulu,” he murmured into her ear, giving her a crushing, one-armed hug.

“I’ll see you soon?” she asked, clutching his arm. Suddenly, she didn’t want him to go.

“I’m off to Siberia in short order,” he replied, “but I have some things to attend to here before I go.”

Then he turned to shake hands with Grady, followed by Savina and Max. They stood there talking as Grady unlocked the door.

“I’ll just get my things,” Macey said, going through the door as soon as Grady pushed it open. She ran up the stairs, leaving them all to say goodbye to Chas. She wanted to get out of here and go somewhere private where she could begin to deal with everything that had happened in the last few days.

She was stuffing things into her satchel as quickly as possible when Macey heard Savina come into the bedroom.

“I’ve got an extra—” Her heart stopped. It wasn’t Savina standing in the doorway, bathed in light from the hallway. It was Grady.

She recovered quickly and returned to shoving lingerie, stakes, and vials of holy water into her bag. “I’ll be finished here in a second.”

“I thought you were dead.” His voice, low and tight, cut through the room.

Macey stilled and looked up, seeing him fully for the first time. His face was a mask of pain and anger as he stood, blocking the doorway.

“I stood there and I watched her put a bullet into you. I thought you were dead.”

She swallowed, though it was difficult with a dry throat and the lump clogging it. “I…”

Leaning against the doorjamb, he bowed his head, rubbing his forehead with jerky movements. “I thought I’d lost you—that you were really gone. And I realized I…couldn’t…I was…” He was shaking his head, his expression tortured with misery, anger, and regret.

“I’m sorry,” she said, finally able to force out the words. “I didn’t mean to upset anyone—well, except for Flora,” she added with a tense laugh…for the grief still lingered in her heart. And now it was expanding even more, painfully swelling inside her chest as she saw the agony playing out on her beloved’s face. “It was the only way I could—”

“Macey, my God—what you asked of Wayren was wrong. So incredibly wrong…”

“Oh, God, Grady, I know, I was…” Her voice broke. How could she ever apologize, explain…ever be worthy of his forgiveness?

“But the simple truth is—despite it all—despite the—the enormity of what you did…Macey, I don’t want to live my life without you. Dammit.” His voice was raw, and he was barely grinding out the words.

Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she wanted to go to him…but she dared not. “I love you. So much. I know what I did was an abomination, an unforgivable decision. It was as good as—as destroying you. I was wrong.”

He lifted his face finally, and the look in his eyes stabbed her low in the belly. They were dark, brilliant blue—like clear and bold sapphires, tormented and desperate…yet there was a flicker of hope in them.

“In spite of that, oh, dammit, Macey…I want you by my side—and I want to be by your side—through all of this: whatever hell or fury you might face. Whatever wars or grief or loss we might have, I want to face them together. With you. And I find I…I can’t change that.”

He stepped away from the door, into the room, holding her with that intense gaze. “In spite of it all, a rún, I love you more than anything. I always will.”

Macey didn’t remember moving, but the next thing she knew, she was in his arms and they were kissing as if they needed it to breathe. His face was wet, and the saltiness from her own tears mingled with the sensual warmth of his lips as she devoured him, pulling his face closer to hers.

She couldn’t control a delicate tremor, and pressed closer into his embrace—for it was like coming home and having a great weight lifted from her shoulders and arriving in heaven—all at once.

He sighed her name as he tightened his arms around her, burying his face in her hair then trailing soft kisses along her jaw and along the front of her ear. She shivered with pleasure, her body coming alive as it evolved from intense pain and grief to sweet, sudden passion.

“Macey, do you need— Oh.”

She pulled away to see her father standing in the doorway. Savina was right behind him, and she tugged at his arm—which, of course, did little to move him. “I told you that everything was fine. Now, leave them be. I’ve been sitting on this secret since Sunday, wondering when it was going to come out.”

Savina gave Macey and Grady a smile. “I know you have much to—er—talk about, so Max and I will be leaving now.” She tugged at his arm again. “Right, darling?”

But Max seemed unwilling to move as his eyes went from Macey’s face to Grady’s face…then to the locations of his hands. His expression darkened.

“I suppose I’m going to have to learn to dislike you intensely now,” he muttered. “Which is a damned shame, because I was rather fond of you, you bloody mick.”

Then he turned and walked away.





TWENTY-SEVEN

~ A Lot of Talking & Some Other Activities Too ~



The door closed behind Savina, leaving them alone once more.

“Grady,” Macey began, now that she’d settled abruptly back to earth. “I can’t imagine how—”

“Don’t,” he said, and pressed a light kiss to her puffy lips, then coming back for more: a long, slick one that had her head spinning. He licked the inside of her mouth with slow, sensual strokes, teased her tongue with his, sucked and nibbled on her lips as desire rolled through her like an approaching storm.

He pulled away and spoke, his voice soft and rough. “We can talk later. Right now…I just want to make love to you, Macey. I need to put all of that aside for a little while…and—and feel again.”

She blinked back tears of guilt and pain. “Oh, Grady, yes…please,” she whispered as she lifted her face to kiss him, then moved along to taste the saltiness of his warm skin along a jaw gritty with stubble, and to the long, strong tendon of his neck.

He vibrated a little, giving a soft groan as she kissed and licked and nibbled there—all the while, he was pulling up her sweater to slide his hands over her back, his hands caressing her bare skin.

It wasn’t long before he had her over to the bed, leaving a trail of shoes and trousers and stockings along the way. But he paused when she flung off her sweater and began to unhook the special corset.

“This,” he said, moving his hands over the stiff, uncomfortable girdle, “is what saved my life…because it saved yours. I’m thinking I should be kissing Al Capone’s damned feet.”

Macey gusted out a laugh—because otherwise she would cry—and replied, “I don’t think that would be very pleasant— Oh!” She squeaked in surprise, for he’d slipped his hand, not beneath the corset as she’d expected, but down into her drawers.

He muttered something bordering on profane when he touched her there and discovered how slick and full she was, and looked up at her with hot eyes.

“Macey,” he whispered.

She realized at that moment, in a blinding rush of shock, that he hadn’t been certain she’d want him the way she had before. That something might have changed between them.

What a fool. What fools they both were.

“Help me get out of this thing,” she said, matching his look with her own avid, promising one. “I need to feel you against me…and inside of me. Please, Grady.”

That was all he needed—and his clever, clever fingers made short work of the Capone contraption as she yanked his shirt apart. Buttons flew, bouncing everywhere, and as the prison of her corset fell away, she had the pleasure of sliding her hands up over his taut, lightly haired chest, carefully avoiding the scores and cuts from his vampire battles.

At last they were completely naked, sliding and easing against the other—muscle to curve, rough hair to smooth skin, legs twined, mouths engaged, hands everywhere. Grady breathed something in Irish against her lips as she guided him between her legs, raising herself to take him in.