Once Upon A Midnight Read online

  Claire sometimes found she couldn’t speak when she saw him naked, he was that chiseled, that perfect. She placed a palm on his chest while his eyes roamed over her body, drinking her in with those dark eyes.

  “Roll over, Claire,” he demanded.

  A shiver spiked along her spine in anticipation as she complied with a smile, rolling to her belly and setting herself on her knees.

  Irish pressed his cheek to her spine. “Jesus, Claire. I can’t get enough of you. If you ever worry me like that again—”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” she murmured, touched to her deepest depths that she’d brought a man like Irish to that level of concern. Claire sat up, pushing him until he sat, too. She leaned back against his broad chest, sighing her contentment when he maneuvered them to the edge of the couch and she was fully seated on his lap.

  Straddling his legs, Claire lifted her hips, letting Irish’s cock slip between her folds, groaning at the slick slide of its head against her clit.

  Irish wasted no time when he gripped her hips, pulling her upward enough to hover at her entrance. Claire wasted no time when she slid down on his hot shaft, seating herself there, letting Irish fill her up, stretch her.

  His teeth nipped her back as he pulled her to him, settled inside her, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. And she rocked, slow, easy, using her hands to brace herself on his knees, lifting upward, taking him back inside her in slow increments.

  Irish hissed his pleasure, cupping her breasts, tugging at her nipples until they were tight peaks.

  And her lust grew, deepening, spiraling, threading its way to her core as she clenched his thighs with her fingers, digging them into the thick muscles.

  When Irish’s fingers slipped into her folds again, she shuddered, falling back against him, urging him to touch her clit, placing her hand over his, moving with him.

  The press of his muscled chest at her back, his fingers doing the most delicious things to her, his cock, surging inside her, all of it created a blinding haze of need.

  Irish nipped at her ear as their rhythm grew frenzied. “No one but me, Claire. Do you understand me? You’ll never be this wet, this hot, this willing for anyone but me from now on. No matter the cost.”

  His hot words against her ear tipped her right over the edge. Claire shook her head as the riptide of orgasm clawed at her, begged her to give in. “Never, Irish,” she said on a sob of pure pleasure.

  Irish drove into her one last time with his face buried in her neck and his hands gripping her flesh. He howled his release, his body going rigid for a moment before releasing.

  Claire forced air into her lungs, sagging back into Irish, lifting her weak arms to wrap them around his neck.

  He smiled against her shoulder, kissing her overheated flesh, lifting her off his lap to pull her into his embrace.

  Her eyes were heavy, as the exhaustion of merely surviving these last three days began to seep into her bones.

  Irish brushed the strands of hair from her face, dropping a kiss on her nose before he scooped her up and carried her down that long hallway where the bathroom was located.

  The slap of his bare feet on the white oak flooring soothing her.

  The bedroom he took her to smelled of lavender and vanilla. The sheets he placed her on, cool and soft. A thick comforter found its way up and over her until it was at her chin, and then there was a dip in the mattress as Irish knelt over her and pressed his lips to hers. “Sweet dreams, Librarian.”

  Chapter 17

  A tongue on her nipple roused Claire from the best sleep she’d ever had. She stretched upward, meeting the hot slashes, moaning at how lovely it was to wake up like this.

  “Evening, Claire,” Irish said against her breast.

  “Hmmm. Oh, keep doing that,” she murmured back, instantly on fire.

  Irish’s tongue stopped moving. “But I can’t. Know why I can’t?”

  “Why?” she all but whined.

  He slid up along her body, still as naked as he’d been when he’d brought her to this amazing bed. “Because we have some talking to do.”

  Claire reached between them, finding his cock. She began a slow stroke. “Can’t we talk afterward?”

  He chuckled, moving out of her reach. “Oh, no. No more of your dark sex magic, Librarian. But I’ll tell you what. You give me information, and for every piece you feed me, I’ll give you something.”

  She lifted her head to find him staring down at her, amusement in his eyes. “What’s that something?”

  “I promise it will involve my mouth somewhere on your body.” To prove that, he cupped her breast and dragged his mouth over it. “Do we have a deal?”

  Claire gripped his shoulders and clenched her teeth. “Fine. Deal. Ask away.”

  “Why are you here in the Zone, Claire? And remember, I need you to answer truthfully. None of your fancy words or turns of phrase to try and trip me up.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek. “I’m looking for someone.”

  “Who someone?”

  Claire held up a finger between them. “Wait. I fed you a piece of information. You owe me a mouth on a body part.” She grinned with satisfaction, sinking deeper into the delicious sheets.

  He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Name your part.”

  “My lips. The least you could do before interrogating me is kiss me.”

  Cupping her cheek, he chuckled before planting his mouth on hers. His tongue slipped between her lips, stoking a new fire. She wrapped her arms around his neck, easing him closer, but Irish pulled away. “Now, now. We had a deal. Who are you looking for here in the Zone, Claire?”

  She had to tell him. She just had to tell him carefully. “A man named Angus Sweeten.”

  His eyebrow rose and then he smiled. “Name your body part.”

  She sighed with happiness, but this conversation, this subject, was too serious for them to play this game right now. Irish just didn’t know how serious. “I’m just going to tell you everything. But I need you to be sitting up, and I need you to promise you won’t lose your temper.”

  He leaned back against the sheets on his elbow, his black eyes concerned. “Now I’m really worried.”

  “Please trust me. Please?” she implored, plumping up the white pillows and patting them as an indication he should use them to lean against.

  Irish sat up, resting against the pillows. “I trust you.”

  She scooted upward herself, leaning in to place a kiss on his lips. “Thank you. And no yelling, okay?”

  Irish lifted his chin, but nodded his consent.

  Her fingers trembled and her mouth went dry, so she took a deep breath and just went for it. “Angus Sweeten sells paranormal girls to rich, mostly human men. Like a trafficker. At least I think he’s the person doing it.”

  Irish’s eyes narrowed, but he gripped her hand. “And you know this how?”

  Okay, here came the lie part, but for right now, she had no choice. Not if she wanted to protect everyone involved. Claire forced herself to look Irish right in the eye, mentally crossing her fingers to ward off the bad mojo connected with lying. “Gannon.”

  His jaw swung open before he snapped it shut, his lips turning to a thin line. “Gannon? Explain.”

  Claire inhaled a breath and let it out, her stomach tight with tension. “The night Gannon was killed, I found out he was selling young paranormals to this man Angus Sweeten for a lot of money. This man Angus lives somewhere here in the Zone. I think in that building you found me at today.” It was the closest lead she had, and finding that lead had cost her almost all the cash she had left.

  No one even wanted to speak Angus Sweeten’s name, much less tell her where to find him. It was as though this Angus was on par with the devil himself the way he evoked so much fear.

  But money talked, and thankfully, she’d taken some from the savings she kept under her mattress, money the government and her council had no idea existed, for just such an occasion. And still, th
e information she’d finally managed to wrench out of a homeless demon was minimal, and in her opinion, sketchy.

  Claire watched the disgust fall over Irish’s expression, followed swiftly by rage. “And Gannon told you that himself? That he was selling children?”

  More lies. But really, only a little one in the scheme of things. However, for the moment, until she had proof, she had to protect everyone involved. “No, he didn’t tell me directly. I caught him talking to someone that night at Boomers. I heard him making a deal.” God forgive her, another lie.

  “Who?” he asked between clenched teeth.

  “I don’t know who he was telling. He was on the phone with someone.” Okay, yet another fabrication. But still, close enough to the truth to sit well with her until she could figure this out.

  “That son of a goddamn bitch,” Irish sneered, his eyes fierce and dark.

  She let her words sit with him, let him digest them before she said, “That’s why I didn’t tell you. Because this is pack business, and in order to prove Gannon deserved to end up dead, I have to find this Angus Sweeten and some record of what he’s doing.”

  Irish’s arms visibly shook, but she was quick to soothe. “Please just listen, Irish. I had to come here. I had to find out what he’s done. Oh God,” she whimpered in horror, so relieved to finally be able to say it out loud. “Innocent children, Irish…Babies, they’re just babies!” She knew her voice was rising in her hysteria. The memory so fresh, she could still taste Gannon’s blood on her tongue.

  Irish pulled her close and squeezed her tight. “Say it, Claire. Get it all out,” he urged, low and raspy.

  Another sob ripped through her. “If you knew…” Her voice hitched on a croak, her heart crashed remembering that night and what she’d heard. What she’d seen. “If…If you heard what I heard that night from that piece of shit’s mouth! I couldn’t…I want to crawl out of my skin from the constant barrage of those ugly, ugly words, pounding in my brain. I hear them over and over even now. He had to die. He had to die,” she said on a sob.

  Irish reacted, gripping her shaking hands together, swiping at the hot tears falling to her lap. “You don’t have to justify, Claire. If you believe nothing else, you have to believe that I know what you did that night was right. I knew it before I knew any of this.”

  Claire instantly sat up straight, wiping her face in angry impatience. She couldn’t afford to indulge in the horrors that night had wrought now. “That’s all I know. I know it’s not much. I know it wasn’t a lot to go on, but all I had was a name. The name Gannon said—” She halted, trying to keep her story straight. “When he was on the phone.”

  Now his eyes grew suspicious, planting a lump of fear in her throat. Please, please, please don’t let him ask…

  “Wait. If Gannon was selling girls to this fuck, did he try to sell one of ours? No one I can think of is missing, are they? Jesus Christ, Claire!” he shouted. “This isn’t just pack business!”

  She blew out a breath and shook her head. “No! He didn’t sell anyone from town. I don’t know where the girls were coming from, and I have no idea how he was getting his hands on them. I just know he was selling them, essentially into slavery, for a profit.”

  Irish ran his hand through his hair, his expression stunned. “And that’s why you killed him?”

  Her eyes fell to the sheets. “That’s why he’s dead, yes.”

  Irish caught her off guard when he pulled her to him again, crushing her in his embrace. “Jesus, Claire. Jesus Christ. I would have killed the pig, too. I never want to hear another word of guilt out of you, because I damn well would have ripped his black heart out.”

  Well, that was sort of what happened. Yet she remained silent on the details. “No specifics on that night until I find the proof I need, okay? Let’s keep the deal about what you don’t know can’t hurt you. Now, if your council is anything like mine, they’d want solid evidence Gannon was up to his eyeballs in this, Irish. And this isn’t clan business. You know it, I know it.” Okay, well it mostly wasn’t clan business…

  Irish pulled back, his eyes hot again with more rage. “Courtland? Is he involved, too?”

  “I don’t know. I never got any further than where I was earlier today when you found me. I think, if my sources are correct, Angus Sweeten lives in that building.”

  “And you were just going to blow on in there and skip through his things until you found your proof? Are you insane?”

  She put a hand on her hip. “You know, hold up there, vampire. I’m superhuman, too. I can take care of myself.”

  “Like you did in the alleyway? Wasn’t that me, headlocking you?”

  Claire rolled her eyes, sliding from the bed in search of her backpack. “Oh, please. I was just planning my escape, which involved gouging your eyeballs out until you revealed yourself.”

  “And you didn’t think to bring anyone with you? Claire, you’re not an idiot. What the hell were you thinking?”

  Locating her backpack, she pulled her last pair of clean underwear from it. “Who would I bring with me, Irish? The Dogs run our pack. They’re the only muscle in town. Was I going to risk telling one of them what I knew only to find out they’re involved, too? How could you possibly expect me to trust them after what you told me about Courtland and how much pleasure he takes in causing pain?”

  Irish launched off the bed, his long legs striding across the length of the thickly carpeted floor. “You should have brought me, Claire!”

  “I was trying to protect you! You can’t get involved in pack business unless it involves one of your own and we don’t know that it involves vampires. We don’t know who it involves at this point. That’s why I’m here—to find out!” she shouted back.

  He drove his legs into his jeans, his face a mask of anger. “If it involves children, it damn well involves me, and I don’t give a shit if they’re werewolves or vampires or goddamn fairies!” he roared.

  Throwing her sweater over her head, she clenched her fists to keep her fingers from trembling. Irish angry was a palpable thing. “Look, we both know how strict our councils are about us mingling. I’d like to talk to the genius who masterminded throwing us all together. The point is, you and me? We’re not supposed to be involved at all. Under any circumstances. If I’d asked you to come with me, you would have. I know that. But it’s too dangerous, and I won’t put you or Hadley in any danger of retribution. So you can yell about how foolish I am all day long, but I’d do it again, because I was the only hope of finding any proof.”

  “And how did you plan to do that? Were you going to storm Sweeten’s castle all stealth ninja warrior werewolf and beat it out of him?”

  She grabbed her sneakers, shaking one pink one at him. “Don’t think I didn’t think of that. But actually, I was going to take a less dangerous, far more critical thinking approach and simply rifle through his stuff!”

  He snarled at her. Literally snarled and flashed his fangs. “Get your things together.”

  Claire crossed her arms over her chest. “Excuse me?”

  “I said get dressed, get your things together. We’re going back to Rock Cove, Claire. Now. And I swear, if you give me an ounce of sass about it, I’ll make you regret it.”

  “The hell I’m going back now! I have a name. That name needs to be investigated, Irish! If Courtland finds out I was involved, I need to have something to prove what happened that night was justified—that Gannon deserved to die. My life is on the line here. I’m not leaving the Zone without proof.”

  He waved a finger at her, his face hard. “The hell you’re not. I’ll call Mathias and get him involved. Believe me, if it happens in the Zone, he knows about it. You would have known that if you’d told me about this crazy scheme. I have connections, Claire. I’ll make sure this is handled somehow, but the hell you’re staying here alone in the Zone without me.”

  “And where’s this Mathias?”

  “He’s traveling, but he’s a mere text away. Finish gettin
g dressed.”

  Claire pulled on her dirty jeans and shook her head. “Nope. I’m staying. I need proof and I need it fast. Mathias might not be fast enough.”

  Irish jerked his shirt over his head, forcing it down his chest with angry hands. “We have two choices here, Claire. You let me see what Mathias can find out, or I stay here with you because I’m petrified you’ll end up dead. If Courtland finds out I’m here with you, well you know what’ll happen then.”

  Oh, there she went, getting all melty again. That Irish was petrified for her safety softened her. She knew he was right. She knew it was dangerous for her to stay here alone, but she also knew what would happen when all of the truth came out. And it would. It had to for the safety of everyone involved, for their sanity, and she wanted to be prepared for it.

  “That’s blackmail, vampire, and it sucks.”

  Irish’s eyes, hard like two chips of black ice, stared her down like the Irish of old once had. “That’s the truth, Librarian, and I don’t care if it sucks. Because I’m not leaving here without you. Choose.”

  Like an ice cream cone dripping in the hot July sun, she melted all the way. “Fine. I’ll go with you, but I won’t like it, and I’m going to be angry for at least a week. So don’t go showing up on my doorstep with your pretty words and sultry vampire ways.”

  Irish broke the tension when he laughed. “Maybe I just won’t show up at your doorstep.”

  “Yeah, yeah. We’ll see about that come, oh, I dunno, tomorrow,” she called over her shoulder as she headed out of the bedroom. “I’ll meet you down by your bike in the garage, and make it snappy. Don’t leave me sitting out in the cold, Irish McConnell!”

  “Hold that thought right there, Claire Montgomery,” he yelled back. “Don’t move a muscle.”

  “Are you saying you don’t trust me?” she taunted from the hallway, standing in place.

  “I damn well am.”

  Seconds later, he was rooting around in her head, fishing to see if she was telling the truth, and she let him—because she was. “Hey! I thought you couldn’t dig around in my head unless you were invited in?”