Page 61 of Dark Lover

She suddenly pulled her legs to her chest. Why was she even analyzing what had just happened? It was only sex! She avoided intimacy and entanglements like the plague and she never bothered to think about her conquests. Why should she? It was always fun. Easy come, easy go.

But Maclean wasn’t one of her boy toys. Sex with Maclean had been savage and stunning. She couldn’t compare it with any other experience. They hadn’t had fun. They hadn’t kissed. They’d even hurt one another. She’d been satisfied—more than ever before. But she felt an odd nagging, almost like disappointment or dismay. It almost felt as if something had been missing from the experience.

Since she couldn’t possibly be disappointed, since she only wanted sex, she was mistaken.

They’d both gotten what they’d wanted, right?

There was one more thing. What they’d just done was nothing like what was on that DVD.

Sam slowly stood up, unable to shake her sense of unease. The DVD had to be a fake after all, because those two people had cared about one another. As for last night, there was no reason to brood about it or him. If she let herself feel sorry for him, she’d soon be toast on his plate. Burned toast…

Grimly Sam glanced around and saw her dress on the floor, not far from the desk. She recalled Ian ripping it apart and tossing it aside. She got to her feet. She’d known from the get-go that Maclean really was bad news. And that meant she had to stay away from him.

It meant no more hot rounds like this one. It meant there’d never be a DVD from the future.

Hemmer…They’d stood him up. He was probably furious and making all kinds of plans for them.

Sam walked over and picked up the dress; it was literally ripped in half and useless. She did not feel better. Her resolve felt shaky. Staying away from Maclean was impossible—he had the page. She started a search for her purse, which was on the console not far from the sofa where Jan had sat last night. Then she almost smiled. Jan could have never handled Maclean; he’d have been bored to death with her.

She found her cell phone. Then she decided that she couldn’t call Kit again. She didn’t want to have to explain what had happened—not that she really could.

He was a mess and she was confused. She, Sam Rose, a Slayer feared on all the city streets, was confused. She was never confused. She was always on course, climbing whatever mountain stood in her path. If she ever needed a friend, she needed one now. Maybe it was time to test her friendship with Kit.

She shivered. She didn’t have any clothes and Maclean kept the AC on an unapologetically and environmentally unfriendly setting. She glanced at the time on her cell phone. It was half past five; she doubted she’d run into Gerard if she went up to the third floor and tried to find some clothes.

Then she felt his stare.

Slowly, her nape tingling, Sam turned and looked at the doorway.

Maclean stood there in the shadows of the dawn, wearing only his jeans, which weren’t even buttoned, and the cross on the leather cord. He was watching her like a hawk. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, because his face was expressionless.

Her heart turned over. Sorrow and desire melded…

She didn’t even want to try to make light of the moment.

There was nothing light about having sex like it was war.

He walked forward, his muscles rippling. Now she saw that he carried clothes in his hand. She tensed, almost expecting him to throw them at her, but instead, he handed them to her. “I called ye a car,” he said.

He had a red scratch on his jaw, another one on his shoulder. They were deep and one was still bleeding.

Sam took the clothes. Suddenly modest, she held the bundle in front of her body. Prior to last night, she’d have made a mocking remark about his being eager for her to leave. Instead, she said, “Thanks.”

He shrugged and walked back out.

WHEN SHE WAS GONE, Ian lay back on his bed, still clad in his jeans. He stared up at the ceiling, grim. What had just happened?

His heart was racing uncomfortably. Heated images kept replaying in jagged bits and pieces in his mind, when he never thought about his conquests afterward—not ever. But he wasn’t sure that Sam Rose had been a conquest. He wasn’t sure what had happened earlier that evening. He’d never been to bed with any woman and had such physical and violent sex. He hadn’t ever wanted any woman the way he wanted her.

He touched himself, still aroused. She’d fought to dominate him. He’d fought back. He wasn’t sure who’d won. Maybe he had. She now knew how good he was. But he was sorry he’d let her leave. He could easily take her again.

Why had he taken her so fiercely—why had he been so insatiable? So desperate?

Ian was uneasy, uncertain. He’d been extremely attracted to her from their first meeting. He’d even wandered through time once or twice after that day in Oban, when he avoided leaping like a medieval man avoided the plague. But the attraction was worse now—constant, consuming. He didn’t like having an attraction he could not control or walk away from.

He thought about the DVD, and wondered how two such savage lovers could get to that other place.

His gut tightened so badly it hurt.