Wolf Moon Page 7

  Instead of calling us for the train as a group, a member of staff came up to us individually, as if he knew who we were and where we were going. Finally, a golf cart zoomed us around behind the scenes and we got to board a sleek, shiny short train with a bistro car on the end.

  We found our seats pretty quickly in a business-class car. The seating was spacious enough for my long legs and Fang’s, too. The charter was a party train paid for by Morrie, who apparently had more money than he knew what to do with.

  The bistro car was full of press, videographers and hangers-on to the wannabe rock star Jolie Hart. She apparently traveled with an entourage when she wasn’t dodging her record producers. Tonight, she was sucking up to them. I had to admit I was fairly impressed by the amount of cash Morrie was spending on Jolie’s career launch. It was the real deal, apparently, a true effort to make her into a rock star.

  The train seat was more comfortable than a plane seat. In a plane, I usually had to travel first class just to have enough leg room. I tried not to get too comfortable, though. I was about to spend more than seven hours on a train with a bunch of vampires. Not to mention some unsuspecting mortals.

  I had another concern about this trip. It was going to be cutting it close for me to make it back by Monday night for my turning. We didn’t even have plane tickets home because we didn’t know when we were leaving Vegas.

  Sam settled into a seat across the aisle from me. She was wearing a new perfume. I didn’t know the name of it, but it should have been called Jump My Bones. It was just that delicious. I tried not to smell her in an obvious way. She always hated when I did that, even at the best of times. She might punch me in the shoulder if she caught me doing it now. Not to say that I didn’t love the bruises she left on me. They were her mark.

  My inner werewolf was very restless just sitting there. It wanted to be let loose. I was sweating and very enticed by the scent and sight of Samantha Moon. She was, at this point, just about ready to beat me up if I asked her one more time if she forgave me for the bubble bath incident with Jolie.

  Fang had told me to let it blow over and stop making an ass of myself. I guessed maybe he knew Sam better than I did. When this was all over, I planned to go to Sam on bended knee and beg for her forgiveness for being a dumbass, but not a cheater. Not with Jolie, anyway. The other time, I could never explain away.

  “Earth to Kingsley,” Sam said.

  “Huh?”

  “You’re broadcasting your desperation.”

  Fang, on the other side of her, guffawed and then turned it into a cough so as not to embarrass me.

  “I meant,” Sam said to Fang, “for him not to worry about his turning. We have plenty of time.”

  If something happened and I needed to be locked up somewhere in Vegas, Fang assured me that he would take great pleasure in chaining me to the lion statue inside the MGM Grand. Sometimes, his jokes really did make me a little nervous.

  Jolie and Morrie and their entourage were riding in the bistro car with paparazzi and reporters, bartenders, a makeup guy, and a hair stylist gal. Pretty spendy, but that was Morrie. Even though he was an evil vampire who professed to be the Devil, he was apparently one hell of a rock star promoter.

  It did occur to me that he had not gotten Jolie the gig at Caesars by chance. He had probably compelled a few mortals to add that late, late show and give her top billing. Usually, these gigs were arranged months and months in advance, so I had to hand it to him. He had an agenda to make it happen.

  It also occurred to me that perhaps he knew Samantha Moon was on board and was just biding his time. Sam was still wearing the silly blonde wig and violet contact lenses. The disguise made her look like a bimbo, but I didn’t tell her that. She was probably reading my mind anyway.

  “I am,” she said aloud across the aisle from me. “As Tammy would say, ‘Dork!’”

  I felt myself blush.

  “Morrie knows I’m on the train,” she said more softly. “He’s reaching out with tentacles of power to see who else is on the train. He saw me and shrank back into himself with a snap.”

  “Oh no! What are we going to do?” I asked.

  “Nothing. I can read his intentions as easily as he can read mine. He’s full of sick glee and plans to snatch me.”

  “Damn it,” I said.

  “I need a drink,” Fang said and got up to get one from the self-serve bar at the back of our car.

  “Don’t worry. He won’t get me.” Sam patted her purse gently, and I knew the last particles of Danny were in it.

  I thought about how much I loved Samantha and wanted her at this time of the month, just before the full moon.

  “Down, boy,” Sam said, apparently catching my vibes.

  “Are you not mad at me anymore, Sam? I swear by all that I am that didn’t do anything wrong in the bubble bath with her.”

  She sighed in a longsuffering way. “This again? Can we please talk about something else?”

  Fang came back with hot coffee for me and a white wine for Sam. He sat next to me and took a nervous swig from his own bottled water.

  It was a wonderful cup of coffee. “Thanks, bro. This hits the spot.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “When did you guys get so… chummy?” Sam asked.

  “Since the time when we went to save Mary Lou,” I replied.

  She nodded. “That was a scary, tragic night for all of us. Poor Danny.”

  “Agreed,” Fang said, his right leg bouncing up and down as he glanced around furtively.

  Sam looked at Fang. “Oh, my God, you love Jolie. You really do.”

  “Stop reading my mind. And this isn’t high school, Sam, for you to out me like that.” Fang looked annoyed.

  “What happened to what’s her name? The one you had before Jolie,” Sam asked.

  “We’re over. I texted her.”

  “Tacky, Fang,” Sam said. “If anyone texted me a breakup message, I would go to his place and give him a piece of my fist down his throat.”

  I didn’t mention how Sam had last broken up with me via voicemail.

  I said, “You two should focus on the mission.”

  “You’re right,” Sam said.

  Fang looked around furtively. “Morrie knows I’m here, too. He cast his psychic net and caught me in the men’s room. He stood right next to me while we were both going and neither of us reflected in the mirror as we washed our hands. And he knows me from my blood club. I tried to smooth things over by saying I had a cooler of vampire beverages with me.”

  “Oh, great,” Sam said. “He knows you’re here. He knows I’m here.”

  “Does he know I’m here?” I asked softly.

  “Yes!” they said in unison.

  Sam added, “How could anyone miss you, Kingsley? You’re enormous. And sweating.”

  I took out a white handkerchief and mopped my face. “It’s because the full moon is coming and—”

  Sam reached across the aisle and held out her hand. “Poor werewolf. It’s almost that time of the month.”

  I took her offered hand and kissed the palm. She gave me a scary smile.

  Then someone—a mortal—wanted to walk by in the aisle and Sam let go of my hand. I almost howled from the hurt of that loss.

  “Calm down, Kingsley,” she whispered. “We have a lot of stuff to prepare, so stop thinking about me as a woman and start thinking of me as your crime-fighting partner.” She nodded at Fang. “That goes for you, too.”

  Fang snorted in an “as-if” way that didn’t cover up that he was very fond of Sam, too.

  Sam closed her eyes and rocked slightly with the slight motion of the charter train.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered, because it seemed to be a strange time for her to take a nap.

  “I’m astral projecting to the bistro car,” she whispered. “Shh.”

  Chapter 17

  After a bit, Sam came back to us, opening her eyes in alarm.

  “What’s wrong?” F
ang asked.

  “Fang, go to the bistro car. Do that secret thing you once told me about where you render someone unconscious.”

  “Why? Who?”

  “Someone just asked Jolie to sing a verse of her new song. They’re trying to goad her into it. That shouldn’t happen yet. It’s too early.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Go, Fang!” Samantha said. “Now!”

  He leapt out of his seat in a blur. In an instant, he was out of our car and headed for the bistro car.

  “What’s going on, Sam?” I insisted.

  “Morrie is trying to make her sing for TMZ. If she does, it would go online in a few seconds and that should not be the first place anyone hears her song. It will taint it.”

  “Whose side are you on?” I asked.

  “Jolie’s side. I want her to have her hit record, and I also want her to not have to deal with the clauses in her contract, especially when that means having my entity ripped from my freshly dead body and inserted in her.”

  “How is Morrie trying to flush you out?”

  “He’s sending me telepathic messages.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, and I can’t block him. He’s a powerful vampire.”

  “But is he Satan?”

  “I don’t know. At the very least, I’m going to call him an enemy agent,” Sam said.

  “Why can’t you block him?” I asked.

  “Beats me. My entity doesn’t like him either. She’s actually trying to help me get him out of my head.”

  “Interesting,” I said. My lawyer’s mind tried to make sense of this. “Sam, your entity wants to stay in you and preserve her current life by protecting yours.”

  Sam leaned forward, listening. “Go on.”

  “Perhaps as you mature as a vampire, you become more symbiotic than adversarial with your entity. Like any relationship, you either forge teamwork or you have conflict and separate agendas. You either diverge or converge. You fight each other or team up to fight others.”

  “I’m feeling her dark love,” Sam said, nodding. “She has a quest for human blood and always tries to talk me into that sort of feed, but she gives me something back when I allow her some. I went to Fang’s blood club and we feasted. Now, she’s on her good behavior because I gave her something she wanted.” She tilted her head at me. “What about your inner werewolf?”

  I didn’t want to discuss Maltheus with Sam, so I said, “I’m just a canine, through and through. If my inner werewolf wants to sniff a butt, I just go with that. There’s no cerebral discussion.”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “Talking to you is like talking to Anthony. Why do I ever try to have a serious conversation with a werewolf or a young boy when all they care about are butts?”

  “Because werewolves are such a great piece of—”

  “Kingsley Fulcrum!” Sam scolded me. “Can you focus on anything but the dog that you are?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “See? You can’t take me anywhere nice.” I paused. “What is Morrie-Satan telling you to do in these telepathic messages?”

  “For some reason, he wants me to go to the bistro car so they can stab me with something silver, kidnap me and sneak me off at a stop.”

  “Are you freaking kidding me? The charter train has stops?”

  “That’s what you got from that?” Sam looked at me as if I were an idiot. “Yes, it has stops. While astral projecting, I heard Morrie tell one of his henchmen—”

  “He has henchmen?”

  “Goons? Thugs? He has bad guys. Kingsley, keep up. What’s wrong with you? You’ve been acting the fool for days.”

  “I really can’t focus, Sam. I’m going to be the werewolf again in two days, and I need… things.”

  “Oh, boy,” she said. “See how you are? You finally get around to things.”

  “I do need things. It’s all I can think about. But with you. And only you. Cross my heart and hope to die.” I sighed heavily to make my point.

  “Oh, for the love of… come here.” Sam reached across the aisle and grabbed me by the shirt collar. I didn’t know if she meant to head-butt me or kiss me. I soon found out when she kissed me.

  I started panting when she left her purse and her sweater on her seat to save it and moved over into Fang’s empty seat to kiss me some more.

  “Your breath is so hot!”

  “It is bad breath?” I worried.

  “No, it’s hot and minty.”

  “That’s normal. I buy mints in bulk so I can always be ready when we’re together.”

  She kissed me again. “That’s so considerate.”

  “My dearest Samantha. Please don’t tease the hell out of me and then stop teasing me.”

  “Kingsley, we’re on a train. What can I even do for your growing and obvious problem besides buy you a big newspaper for your lap?” She had a point.

  “I’ll find a place where we can, you know,” I said hopefully. The sweat was rolling off me, and my trousers were getting tighter.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said and kissed me some more. Her lips and tongue were like cool, sweet velvet on my hot flesh.

  “I want you so bad,” I said.

  “Woof,” she said, teasing me.

  We kissed some more, and apparently, she decided she wanted me, too, because she made this growling sound I loved so much before we usually—

  “Please, Sam?” I begged.

  “This train is packed. There isn’t one place where anyone can lie down.”

  “Who said anything about lying down?” I asked softly and gave her my sexiest Kingsley face, the one with one eyebrow cocked. I kept my tongue in my mouth, even though my inner werewolf wanted to let it roll out and lick her tempting earlobe. I did have some manners.

  “Standing up? Us?” she whispered in my ear.

  “Why not?” I challenged her.

  “I’m going to climb you like a tree!” promised the entity inside of Sam. I knew it was her because she wrenched me out of my seat and dragged me by the wrist to the empty vestibule. Sam wouldn’t have done that on her own. Sam liked privacy and was never given to risky trysts.

  I barely had a chance to cram a red Solo cup from the trash can over the CCTV lens before she proceeded to have her way with me, putting her hands all over me and scratching up my back and shoulders in a way that hurt so good. Moving her hands downward, she pulled me free—

  Oh, the joy of making love with Samantha Moon… she knew where to touch me, and how. Of course, I reciprocated. Boy, did I!

  After some more clothing adjustments, we got underway with our shared goal in mind. Sam desperately wrapped her arms and legs around me. Because I’m tall, and she’s not, the only way we could make love standing up was for me to carry her and oh, what a sweet weight she was. Her lips drank my tongue in such a deep way that I wondered if I would get it back. I loved her madly. No, I didn’t just love her. I wanted to go into eternity with her.

  Every stroke into her felt like I was being reborn and every withdrawal felt as if I would die. I tried not to make any noise, even though she was a bit too vocal for such a public place. It amused me that she was unable to rein in her small sounds of pleasure. I said her name into her hair, her ear, her flesh.

  And then, when the entity got what she wanted, she retreated to some dark corner of Sam… and there was left my sweet, loving Samantha. She was moaning softly in my ear and quivering against me, kissing my scratched-up shoulders where she’d pulled my shirt open and pushed it out of her way. A shirt button plinked to the floor and rolled away.

  As the train swayed gently, I rocked her in my arms and whispered her name in her ear, as I was wont to do. After.

  “I love you, Sam,” I said.

  “I know,” she replied, which was not what I wanted to hear. She was going to say more, but a car attendant startled us, clearing his throat. He gave us a stern look as we disengaged and Sam was again on her own feet, hurriedly pulling her dress down to cover her
self. The car attendant pulled the red Solo cup off the CCTV camera, crumpled it angrily and threw it in a nearby wastebasket.

  “No loitering in this area,” he said. “Get back to your seats. Now.”

  “I never see you in a dress,” I whispered. “Now, I’ll know when you wear one… what you’re up to,” I teased Sam.

  “Sheesh, Kingsley!” Sam said, but looked amused.

  We straightened our clothing and sedately walked back to our seats, trying to pretend we had not just done what we had done on a moving train while I kept the balance for both of us and performed like a rock star. No, a porn star.

  “Big bad wolf.” Samantha sat beside me with our fingers still intertwined. She leaned back and closed her eyes, letting go of a final shuddering sigh. It was more of an emotional sigh than a physical one because vampires don’t need to breathe.

  “You were primal,” I whispered.

  “I had plenty of help. I hope you can act normally now,” she said and gave my throat a nippy kiss.

  I laughed like the wicked dog I am.

  “Enough shenanigans, Kingsley. Can you reach my sweater?” she asked softly.

  I grabbed it from across the aisle.

  “I need my purse, too. I want to reapply my lipstick so I don’t look like a ghoul with bluish-white lips.”

  “Where’s your purse?” I asked.

  “On the seat where my sweater was. Here, let me fix that.” She licked her thumb and must have cleaned a smear of lipstick from the corner of my mouth.

  “No, it’s not there,” I said.

  Sam’s eyes snapped wider. She vaulted over me and got on her knees, looking for her purse under the seat. “Someone stole my purse. I can’t believe it! We were only gone for two minutes!”

  “Hey, now,” I said, affronted. “I think it was at least ten minutes.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “What was in your purse?”

  “Everything. Extra undies, which is what I really wanted, makeup, tissues, my keys, wallet and credit cards—and I had the ghost of Danny zipped in there.”

  “You carry extra undies? Did you knew we were going to—”

  Just then, a bloodcurdling scream came from the restroom, and a man came running down the aisle with what I thought was Sam’s purse, closely followed by the ghost of Danny. At least, I hoped it was Sam’s purse. Danny, I recognized.