The Rogue Hunter

Chapter Sixteen

Mortimer woke slowly and reached for Sam, only to find the expanse of bed beside him empty. Immediately awake, he sat up and glanced toward the door to see that it was closed but unlocked. He launched himself quickly out of bed, concern for Sam uppermost in his mind. He hadn't meant to, but he'd bit her the last time they'd made love, and he was now a bit frantic to see that Sam was all right.
She'd probably gone in search of the bathroom, Mortimer told himself as he dragged on his jeans. Of course there was the slim possibility Sam was in search of food again and might look in the fridge downstairs, where she'd find the bagged blood. That would be a problem, but Mortimer was more concerned about how she was feeling. He was feeling pretty damned good himself, but...
Having finally consummated their desire, Sam and Mortimer had binged on each other. He'd awoken several times in the last twelve-plus hours since finding Sam in the cottage and had reached for her first thing. He'd found her warm, willing, and even welcoming each time, and together they'd repeatedly sought and found their ecstasy again.
Only once had they troubled themselves to go in search of food to power their pleasure. However, they'd hardly touched the goodies they'd managed to retrieve from the refrigerator upstairs before he'd been unable to resist kissing her, and their attention had once more turned to each other. That time they'd started on the kitchen counter, and it had almost been too late by the time he'd had the common sense to carry her to his room so that they wouldn't be found unconscious on the kitchen floor.
Mortimer had been stupid. While he might be able to ignore his hunger for food in favor of devouring Sam, his need for blood wasn't so easily subverted. He'd had only one bag before finding her upstairs after awakening that day. It hadn't been nearly enough. The last time they'd made love, his hunger for blood had exerted itself, and he'd unthinkingly sunk his teeth into her neck as he'd taken her. Worse yet, he'd been so excited and overwhelmed by the combination of both needs being fulfilled that he'd taken more blood than he should have before realizing what he was doing and forcing his fangs from her throat. His last thought before unconsciousness had claimed him had been to worry that she was all right.
And it was that worry that was foremost on his mind as Mortimer rushed out of his room, and hurried upstairs to find that she wasn't there either... but Bricker and Decker were. His gaze slid over the two men enjoying a bag of blood at the table and then to the window where the dawn was threatening on the horizon.
"Sam left right after we got here," Decker announced, pulling his empty bag from his mouth.
"She snuck out the screen door downstairs," Bricker added as he removed his own empty bag and grinned. "We heard her, but pretended not to."
"Oh." Mortimer ran a hand through his hair, glanced at the food he and Sam had left out on the counter earlier, but then turned to go back downstairs, his feet taking him to the refrigerator where the blood was stored. He was worrying about whether she was all right as he retrieved a bag of blood and slapped it to his teeth.
"She's all right," Decker said, bringing Mortimer's attention to the fact that the two men had followed him and that Decker was again reading his mind. "She looked a bit weak and pale as she crossed the lawn, and she'll probably sleep all day while her body recuperates, but there was no lasting harm done."
Mortimer felt relief slip through him. Unable to speak around the nearly empty bag in his mouth, he merely nodded.
"I put the thought in her head that she'd been bitten by blackflies," Decker added as Mortimer finally tore the empty bag away.
"Thank you," he said gruffly, opening the refrigerator door again.
"So?" Bricker asked.
"So what?" Mortimer growled as he retrieved another bag of blood.
"When are you going to tell her?" Bricker asked.
Mortimer frowned with irritation. Dear God, he'd just finally consummated his feelings for the woman and they were already on him about telling her. "I'll tell her next Saturday or Sunday."
"Waiting as long as you can, huh?" Decker asked dryly as he leaned past him to grab a bag himself. "I don't blame you for wanting to enjoy her as long as possible in case you have to give her up."
Mortimer frowned at that possibility being spoken aloud. It was what he most feared.
"But," Decker added, "you might want to factor in that she'll need time to consider everything before she makes her decision."
Mortimer popped the second bag of blood to his teeth in response.
Decker left him to think about that as he popped his own bag to his teeth. Bricker immediately leaned in to grab one for himself, and the three of them were silent until these were empty. But the moment Decker ripped his from his teeth, he said, "Giving her a couple of days to consider it seems reasonable, don't you think?"
"Maybe," Mortimer allowed reluctantly. "But she doesn't have to think about it up here. I can tell her before they leave Sunday and then drive down to Toronto after we catch our rogue and..." His voice trailed off. Decker was shaking his head. Shifting unhappily, he asked, "No?"
"No," Decker said firmly. "It's too dangerous. She might tell someone. Sam has to decide before she and her sisters leave so that we can wipe their memories if she decides against being your life mate."
Mortimer winced at the suggestion, but knew he was right. Their people's safety came first. If he wanted to give her time to think about it, which was only fair, he had to tell her soon.
"I'll tell her tonight," he said quietly, and then taking another bag of blood, headed to his room so that he could be alone and figure out just how he was going to do that.
"You're glowing," Jo said with glee and then called out, "Isn't she glowing, Alex?"
"Stuff it, Jo," Sam muttered, feeling her face heat with embarrassment as she opened the refrigerator and peered inside at the offerings. It was late. Nearly eight o'clock and she had just finally woken up after sneaking home at dawn from the cottage next door. Sam couldn't believe how long she'd slept... or perhaps she could. She'd certainly had a workout with Mortimer. They'd made love so many times she'd lost count. Her body wasn't used to it and had apparently decided she needed rest.
Now Sam was hungry and crazy thirsty. She felt like all the liquid in her body had been sucked out of her.
"Yes, she's glowing," Alex agreed, coming into the kitchen from the hall. "I can't believe you slept all day. What time did you get in?"
"Six a.m.," Jo answered for her, and then explained. "I woke up when you crept past my door."
Sam flushed with embarrassment, but didn't comment as she pulled orange juice from the refrigerator and poured herself a glass.
"Well, it must have been something," Alex said almost enviously, pulling a set of pies from the oven. "We heard you screaming from over here at one point."
"What?" Sam turned with dismay to find Jo grinning widely and nodding.
"We weren't sure if he was killing you or what," her younger sister admitted.
"And you didn't come see?" she asked, struggling between embarrassment that her cries of pleasure had been heard, and indignation that they hadn't checked on her.
"Well, we considered it, but jeez, I mean if he was killing you, you were dying happy," Alex said dryly as she set the pies on the stove and turned to consider her with hands on hips. "Girl, I didn't know you had such healthy lungs. You sure can howl."
Sam groaned and turned back to her orange juice, gulping it down with a thirst that wouldn't be denied.
"I thought those blackfly bites had healed," Jo said suddenly, moving closer to her side. "They look almost fresh again."
Sam shrugged and poured herself more juice. "They got me again last night."
"When?" she asked dryly. "I thought you were inside. Oh! Were you two doing the nature thing again? I thought you'd sworn off that."
Sam flushed. Fool that she was, she'd told them about the stay in Minden. Her sisters had been very sympathetic, once they'd finished laughing themselves silly.
"It must have been on the walk back," Sam muttered, though she'd seen the marks in the bathroom mirror at Decker's as she'd dressed. She hadn't wanted to wake Mortimer, so had checked that the rec room was empty and then had gathered her clothes and slipped out to dress in the bathroom. She'd heard the men return just as she'd finished and had hurried to slip out through the sliding doors downstairs before her presence could be discovered.
Sam had seen the marks on her neck while in the bathroom, so knew she hadn't gained them on the walk back. It must have been on the walk over, she thought, and then frowned as she peered at the pies Alex was fussing over. No wonder she felt so dried out. Alex had been baking and heated up the cottage with the oven.
"Who is that for?" she asked, moving to peer hungrily down at the pies.
"Us and Grant," Alex answered. "I thought I might as well get it done today rather than tomorrow. That way we'll be sure to get it to him and not have to leave it on the deck with a note like last year. I swear, that man is hardly ever home."
Sam nodded. They always gave him a pie with the check to cover the work he did for them over the year. It had started as something their mother had done for Mr. Warner before him. Alex had carried on the tradition after their parents' death and simply continued to do so with Grant.
"Alex made the second pie for us," Jo said happily.
"I didn't have a choice," Alex commented dryly. "You two picked at the crust so much last year that he probably thought mice had been at it."
Sam smiled at the memory. "So can I have a slice?"
"No," Alex said at once. "You aren't having pie for breakfast."
"It's eight o'clock at night," Sam pointed out in an almost whining tone. "You can't call this breakfast."
"I can when you're just waking up for the day," she said firmly and then added, "We'll have it tomorrow after dinner. Make yourself an egg or something now."
"So?" Jo said, following her to the refrigerator. "Are you going to tell us about it?"
"No," Sam said at once, opening the door between them and scouring the refrigerator. Her eyes settled on some lunch meat and cheese and she decided on a sandwich.
"Well, at least we know this time it wasn't interrupted by bats or some other form of wildlife," Jo teased, and then frowned and moved closer again to better examine her neck. "These bites look even more like a vampire's kiss than the last two. Those were a little too close, but these are the perfect distance apart to be from a vampire bite."
"Eww! Stop saying stuff like that," Sam said with disgust, but suddenly had a flash of memory of a pinch at her neck as Mortimer nibbled on it while thrusting himself into her. In the next moment that pain had been rolled under by the wave of ecstasy that had claimed her as he drove them both toward a screaming climax.
Legs weakening under the onslaught of remembered passion, Sam shook her head and grabbed for the counter to steady herself. She really needed to eat.
"What if Mortimer was one," Jo teased. "I bet you wouldn't mind vampires so much then."
Pausing, Sam turned a glare on her. "That's so not funny. Don't even joke about it."
"Joke about what?"
Sam glanced around to see Mortimer at the screen door. Nothing could have stopped the welcoming smile that curved her lips as he pulled the door open and stepped inside to join them.
"About you being a vampire," Jo said with a laugh as he moved to Sam's side, slid his arm around her, and gave her a quick hello kiss. "Sam isn't keen on them. I think she'd toss you over if you were one."
"What?" Mortimer stiffened against her, and Sam smiled wryly when his gaze turned sharp on her face.
"She's probably right. Good thing you aren't a vampire, huh?" she teased, slipping her own arm around his waist and giving him a squeeze. When Mortimer simply stared at her, looking slightly stunned, she added, "Ignore Jo."
"Yeah, ignore her," Alex said lightly. "She's just teasing. Our Sam has a phobia about bats, you see."
"Bats," he murmured, sounding confused.
"Yeah. So she isn't keen on vampires and all that nonsense either. You know, they turn into bats and stuff." She shrugged.
"Right, bats and stuff," he said quietly and seemed relieved.
"Speaking of bats, Jo and I were thinking about going into town for bat night," Alex announced.
Mortimer looked bewildered. "What is bat night?"
"Oh, they're going to put up this huge wall of netting and catch bats and then everyone gets to look at them and learn what kind of bat they are and stuff before they set them free. You two should come with us. It'll be cool," Jo assured him.
"My sister is into bugs and bats and things," Sam said dryly. "She freaks if you dare swat a spider or some other disgusting creature. She likes them."
"Oh." Mortimer smiled faintly.
"Speaking of which, we'd best get going. It's nearly dark out," Alex said, turning to Jo.
"Yeah," Jo agreed, and then turned an impish smile on Sam and Mortimer. "Obviously you two would rather stay here and make out than go with us, so I guess we'll leave you to it."
"Thank you," Sam said dryly.
"Don't touch the pies," Alex ordered, picking up her purse and heading for the door. "See you later."
"See you later," Jo echoed as she followed and then glanced wickedly back and added, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"Since there isn't much Jo wouldn't do, I'll honk three times to warn you when we return," Alex muttered as she pushed her way out the door.
Laughing at her promise, Sam slid out from under Mortimer's arm and moved to the window over the sink to watch her sisters get in the car, start it up, and head up the driveway. She was aware of Mortimer moving to stand behind her, could feel the heat of him against her back, but waited until the car was out of sight before turning to face him. The moment she did, she rose up on tiptoe, slipping her hand behind his head as she did and drawing his face down so she could kiss him.
Mortimer responded, but in a distracted manner that carried none of the passion of the night before. Deciding that wouldn't do, she broke the kiss, caught his hand, and dragged him into the living area. Pausing beside the couch, she pushed him to sit on it, climbed on to straddle his lap, and started to kiss him again as she blindly began to undo the buttons of his short-sleeved shirt.
Much to her amazement, Mortimer caught her hands in his to stop her and then used them to urge her backward and break their kiss.
"What is it?" she asked with surprise. The last time she'd seen him he couldn't keep his hands off her. They'd both been insatiable. Now he apparently wasn't interested. Something must be wrong.
Mortimer hesitated. "About this vampire business."
Sam laughed with disbelief that such a silly thing seemed to be on his mind, and then her eyes widened as a thought came to her. "What is it? Did you want to play a game? You get to be the big scary vampire and I cower in fear as you ravish me?"
She smiled faintly at the idea and reached between them to find him semi-erect. He wasn't as unaffected as he appeared, Sam realized and gave a throaty laugh as she leaned closer again to kiss him, her hand stroking him through his jeans. She felt him twitch through the cloth under her hand, but he didn't open his mouth or try to kiss her back. Instead he turned his head away.
"Sam, we have to talk," he said solemnly when she paused and sat back with bewilderment.
Sam stilled at his serious tone of voice. They had to talk? she wondered worriedly. That always preceded a bad conversation. Things like "your parents were killed in a car accident," or "your dog Fluffy choked on a bone and died," or "I want to break up with you."
Since her parents were already dead and she didn't have a dog... Christ, Sam thought faintly. Was it over already?
"Sam, I like you. More than like you even."
Her breath slid out on a rush of relief, and she relaxed in his lap and leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I like you too."
"No," Mortimer said seriously. "I mean, I really like you. The ever-after kind of like."
Sam sat back and stared wide-eyed as she tried to think where this was going. Ever-after kind of like, he'd said. What was that? And what the hell was he trying to say? It was way too early in their relationship for anything really serious to even be considered. Sam liked him, she more than liked everything about him so far, but-
"I realize it seems fast and you're probably worried about making a mistake, but-" Mortimer caught her face between his hands and peered at her solemnly as he said, "It isn't a mistake, Sam. I can guarantee you that. You're my life mate."
She stared at him blankly. Life mate? That was a new term she'd never heard before. She'd heard mate, and life partner, but never life mate. And what the devil was he saying anyway? It sounded to her like he was looking for some kind of commitment, but she wasn't sure. And she wasn't sure how she should respond. In truth, Sam wouldn't really mind some sort of commitment between them, but she knew others would think they were rushing and-Well, there was really no reason to rush, was there? She knew it was more sensible to take things more slowly.
Releasing her hold on him, Sam settled more sedately in his lap and cleared her throat before speaking. "I like you too, Mortimer. But there's really no need to rush this. We could date awhile, maybe live together."
"That probably won't work," he said quietly, and when she frowned, he grimaced and admitted, "I'd need a commitment from you before you leave this weekend."
Sam gaped with surprise. That was definitely rushing it in her book. "Why?"
"My work takes me away a lot," he said slowly, and then added, "And right now, I don't want to be away from you. Maybe I never will."
Sam melted at his words. They were so sweet. She found she didn't want to be away from him either... but she had her job at the law firm, and he was in his band.
"That's even more of a reason to take it slow, Mortimer," she said quietly. "To see if we can work out."
"We can," he assured her quickly.
"I hope so," she admitted. "But we have to work out how. I studied long and hard to be a lawyer; I'm not ready to just toss it over to follow your band around like some stalker groupie."
"I'm not in a band."
That blurted bit of information made her stare at him blankly. "What?"
"I-none of us-we aren't in a band. There is no Morty and the Muppets, or the Rippers."
Sam slid off his lap to sit on the couch. This was going to be terribly serious after all. "You lied to me?"
"No. Bricker did. I just didn't correct him," he said quickly.
"It's the same thing," she said with irritation.
"But there was a reason. I couldn't tell you the truth. You wouldn't have believed it."
"What is the truth?"
Mortimer hesitated and then said, "You know how that first night when Jo was guessing what we used to do and you said you would have guessed police of some description?" He waited for her to nod and then said, "Well, you were right."
Sam raised her eyebrows. "You're a police officer from L.A.?"
"Sort of," he said cautiously. "We're enforcers."
"Enforcers?" she echoed with bewilderment.
Mortimer nodded and then licked his lips and added, "For the Council."
"What Council?" she asked at once.
"Our Council, our governing body."
"You work for the government?" Sam asked with amazement, and then shook her head as she recalled that Bricker and Mortimer were from the U.S. and Decker from Canada. Mouth tightening, she asked, "Which government? The U.S. or Canada?"
"Our Council governs our people in both the U.S. and Canada," he said carefully.
Now Sam was getting angry. He was obviously stringing her another line of bull. "There is no such thing."
"Yes," he assured her. "There is."
"Oh, for God's sake, just tell her already."
Both of them swiveled to stare at Bricker as the other man tugged the screen door open and stepped inside. He moved to stand at the end of the couch, hands on hips and scowling.
"You're making her think you're a fruitcake with all this dancing around the subject," Bricker told him dryly, and then glanced to Sam. "I'm sorry I lied, but you and your sisters hardly would have believed it if I'd announced that we were rogue vampire hunters."
"Rogue vampire hunters!" Sam squawked and was suddenly off the couch. Backing up several feet, she glared at the pair of them. "If this is your idea of a joke-"
"We're not trying to be funny," Mortimer said quickly, getting to his feet. "Sam, he's telling the truth this time."
"Right. You're rogue vampire hunters," she said with disgust.
Mortimer winced at her disdain, but nodded. "Yes, we are."
Sam stared at him with disbelief. "You expect me to believe that vampires really exist and you guys-what? Hunt them down and stake them? Cut off their heads to give them rest? Puhleeze." She turned to storm out of the room, but Bricker was in the way. He also had his mouth open, and as she watched in sick fascination, his front canine teeth seemed to shift forward and drop like blinds sliding down a window.
"See," he said with his mouth still open so it sounded more like thee. His fangs retracted and then shot out again and then retracted once more. Shrugging, he said, "Vampires."
Sam stared. It had to be some trick, fake teeth controlled by battery-operated remote or something. But it was a good trick.
"Oh," she breathed finally. "You guys are good. I'll give you that. Now if you're done with your little joke, I'd like you both to leave."
"Get out of here Bricker," Mortimer said grimly and waited for the other man to leave before turning to move toward her, saying quietly, "It isn't a joke, Sam."
"Don't touch me," she hissed, backing away. Her feelings were still confused, but anger was winning the battle. "Of course it's a joke. What is this? Your way of breaking up with me? Make me think you're crazy so I do the job for you?"
"I don't want to break up with you."
"Well, you don't want me with you or you wouldn't try spinning such a stupid story. And you must have planned this well ahead because I'm pretty sure there aren't any stores up here that carry specialty items like those teeth Bricker flashed. What did you guys do? Just head up here planning to sweet-talk some girl into bed and then play your little gag on her? Would any girl have done and I just happened to be handy?"
"No, I-"
"You didn't have to bother," Sam interrupted and then-hurt beyond words-added cruelly, "You were just supposed to be a fling for me anyway. You know, fall off a horse, get back on another. Did you really think someone like me could fall for a beatnik in a band? What did you imagine? That I was fantasizing about following you from gig to gig and flashing you my tits from the audience?"
"Sam." He tried to catch her hands again, but she backed quickly away.
"Don't. Don't try and play the nice guy now. You had your fun last night, wanted to break it off today and succeeded. Now you can go back to your buddies and laugh about how easy it was to get me into bed, and how upset I was when you pulled this stunt. This will probably be as funny to them as the leech incident must have been. That should have given them a good laugh. I know my sisters laughed themselves silly," she added bitterly.
"Nobody will think this is funny," Mortimer said, reaching for her hand again.
Sam tugged it away, her mouth hardening. "Just get out."
"Sam," he pleaded quietly.
"Now," she growled, too furious to have any desire to listen. She was hurting and angry and just wanted to break something. That or cry. Either way, she wanted him out of there before she did either.
Much to her relief, Mortimer didn't try to argue further, but released his breath on a slow sigh and simply turned and left.
Sam watched through the window until he disappeared into the cottage next door before turning abruptly away to survey the room. She needed something to do, something to distract her, she thought wildly, and then suddenly found herself snatching up a book sitting on the corner of the table and wheeling it furiously at the wall. It crashed into a family portrait taken years ago, knocked it from the wall, and sent it crashing to the floor with a tinkle of shattering glass. And then Sam was crying.
Turning away from the accusing stares of her family in the photo, she moved over to the couch, climbed on it to sit with her legs gathered beneath her, caught up one of the cushions next to her, and pulled it to her chest to bury her face in it as she began to sob. It felt as if her heart was breaking, and she feared it just might be.
"You just left?" Bricker asked with disbelief.
"What was I supposed to do?" Mortimer snarled, pacing the kitchen floor. "She was too hurt and angry to listen."
Bricker exchanged a glance with Decker and then said, "You should have talked to her. Convinced her it wasn't a joke. Claimed her as your mate."
The younger man still thought you could win anything if you fought hard enough. But after eight hundred years, Mortimer had learned that there were some things that fighting would not get you, and that sometimes you just had to back off and give a person space. Shaking his head wearily, he said, "God, Bricker, sometimes you're so young."
"Yeah, well sometimes you're old and stubb-"
"He's right, Bricker. Fighting and forcing her to listen won't help here," Decker interrupted.
"What?" the young man turned on him with amazement. "Well, what else can you do? She-"
"-isn't going to listen to anything anyone says unless we can get her attention," Decker said, and then added, "And from what I can tell, right now she thinks she's been played and is too hurt and furious with Mortimer to listen to anything he has to say."
Bricker frowned over this and then turned to Mortimer and offered, "I could try to intervene for you."
His anger with the man softened at the offer, but he shook his head. "She thinks we're both dirtbags at the moment."
"Then I can," Decker said, and Mortimer closed his eyes. He had good friends.
"Thank you," he assented, trying not to let his hopes rise. Decker might not be able to get Sam to listen either. She probably thought him a dirtbag too now. "When will you-?"
"Now," Decker interrupted, and promptly walked out of the cottage.
Mortimer moved to the door and watched silently as the other immortal took the trail through the trees, very aware that the man held Mortimer's future in his hands.