My Immortal Cowboy (Hell's Cowboys Book 1) Read online

  “Hang on, baby.” He winked and grinned.

  Charlee held onto his head, threading her fingers through his hair as he dipped down and licked up between her folds, his tongue laving over her clit. One taste wasn’t enough; he wanted to find out just how many licks it would take to make her shatter.

  Charlee threw her head back. “RC,” she moaned. Her legs threatened to buckle beneath RC’s sweet torture. God, how she had missed him, missed this. He knew all the right moves that her body craved. He licked and sucked until she couldn’t hold back any longer. A heatwave ignited her flesh and set her ablaze.

  With her heightened senses since the change it didn’t take long for her orgasm to hit. She gripped RC’s hair, holding onto her balance as her body quivered, surrendering to RC’s touch.

  “I need you now,” she panted.

  RC stood and picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Fuck me,” she whispered in his ear. She heard a growl and the next thing she knew she was up against the wall with RC unbuttoning his Wranglers. She nipped at his bottom lip before she sucked it into her mouth. Their tongues twirled with fiery passion. With a single tug, she ripped his shirt from his frame, sending snaps bouncing to the floor. Her body craved his touch, needing to feel every tantalizing inch of his body.

  In one push, he thrusted deep inside. “You feel amazing.”

  He groaned and pumped faster.

  Some kind of carnal impulse hit and her fangs descended. She raked them down his neck, wanting to bite him.

  “Do it,” he moaned.

  Without hesitation she clamped down on his neck, puncturing his skin, and drank greedily as RC pumped her even faster. Her chest tightened and her body shuddered.

  “Fuck yeah, Charlee girl. Come with me.” He nuzzled her neck.

  Lightning shot up her spine and she came harder than she’d ever come before.

  She dug her nails into his back and screamed out her cowboy’s name. A euphoric wave washed over her body as RC’s cock jerked, releasing his seed deep inside her.

  Charlee cradled his head between her breasts as RC stood catching his breath. They shared a different kind of connection now. He was soul-deep.

  “I think we should fight more often,” RC said, kissing her breasts. “Make-up sex is fucking incredible.”

  Charlee laughed. “As long as we make up fast. Three weeks was too long without you.”

  RC paused.

  “What’s wrong?” Charlee asked.

  “You’re right.” He looked up and met her eyes. “Move in with me.”

  Charlee lost her breath. “With the Cowboys? I—”

  “It will be fine, besides Hank misses you.”

  Charlee cupped his face. “I don’t want to spend another second away from you.”

  “Then you’re moving in?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  18

  Clay had been down in this dank dungeon one hour too long trying to convince the prisoner to come clean. His patience was wearing thin. The bastard had information that could help the Cowboys understand what the vampire king was conjuring up. Everything from the attack at D&D to Charlee’s abduction, reeked of suspicion.

  He rolled up his sleeves and wiped the sweat from his brow, then picked up a bucket. He unleashed the cold water over the asshole’s face, causing his body to jerk back to life. Chains clanged together as the captive fought and screamed against the frigid chill.

  When was he going to break?

  Soon, he hoped. How much longer could his prisoner withstand being bound by silver and hanging from the ceiling by chains? Steam rose from his wrists and his upper body was weak from holding up his weight. His toes barely touched the ground.

  Clay tugged his head back. “We know you’re working for Mace Wrathmore. We’ve been on your trail since the attack at the club.”

  He grinned. “Bullshit. You know nothing.”

  “Do you call this bullshit?” Clay dug his finger into the prisoner’s neck, retrieving a pill-shaped device. “That’s a GPS tracking chip, asshole.”

  He hissed in pain. “You must be the bad cop. Where’s the good one?”

  “Unfortunately, it’s your unlucky day. Are you going to talk now?”

  “Seems to me you already have your answers.”

  Clay punched him in the face. “Don’t smart off, son. I got all night, but by the looks of you, you’re ready to break. I want to know why Mace has dhampirs working for him.”

  The captive swallowed, hard.

  “You thought you could keep it hidden from me?” Clay grabbed his chin. “What does he want with Ms. Brysen’s ranch?”

  “Look, I was given a job to do. We were supposed to take out the stripper at the club.”

  “You mean Ms. Brysen?”

  “Yeah. We didn’t know y’all would be there. The bounty on your heads was extra credit.”

  Clay’s jaw ticked.

  “I don’t know what he’s going to do with the land. I’m just a worker bee trying to survive.”

  “I think you know, but can’t tell. He’s holding something over you, isn’t he?”

  The prisoner fell silent, sweat beading across his top lip.

  The dhampir was young, eighteen at the most, and already corrupt. Dark skin encircled his eyes, his dark hair hair was greasy, and he was on the thin side. Clay’s gut was telling him that he needed to help this young kid. Perhaps it was his own demons that were warring inside. Perhaps redemption lay within this young male. Whatever it may be, it was risky. Clay couldn’t turn his back on him, because he knew firsthand how it felt to be down on your knees when the one person who you thought had your back was nowhere to be found.

  Shit. When did I start giving a rat’s ass?

  “What’s your name, son?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he mumbled. “I’m already dead.” His head flopped forward.

  “Hey.” He tipped the male’s head back and his eyes rolled back into his head. Clay slapped his face, trying to wake him. “Stay with me, son!” The prisoner’s body convulsed.

  Quickly, Clay freed him and flung him over his shoulder. Knowing that Selene was with Charlee, he decided to call Thana.

  As he headed down a long hallway back to the elevators, he dug out his cell phone. “Come on, pick up.” After a few rings he got her voice mail. “Shit.” He was hoping she’d pick up so she could take care of the prisoner instead of him going to the emergency room above ground. Just his luck—he was headed to Diablo Medical.

  Clay hit the parking garage, racing to his truck. He laid the dhampir down in the passenger seat, then reached into the glove compartment, taking out a long piece of rope, and secured his hands before he started the truck and left the garage.

  What was he thinking? Had he lost his damn mind? Taking a dhampir to a human hospital ranked high on the bat-shit crazy list, but he had no other choice.

  He followed the signs to the back of the hospital that led to a covered blue awning. He parked the truck, then raced over to the male, taking him into his arms.

  Clay didn’t bother to open the door, he kicked the damn thing open and rushed in like a thunderstorm, carrying his prisoner. “I need a doctor, now,” he shouted at the woman sitting behind the reception desk.

  “I’m Dr. Mason. What happened?” she asked as she bolted from the chair.

  “I think it’s a drug overdose.”

  “Let’s go in here.” She pointed to a room on the right and called for a nurse. “Lay him on the table.” She took the stethoscope from around her neck.

  “His heart is racing.” She checked the patient’s body. “Why are his hands in restraints?”

  Shit!

  “For his own good.” Clay untied him.

  Clay waited for the prognosis while he checked the good doc out. Her hair was pulled back into a bun. The sorrel strands reminded him of his favorite ropin’ horse. Eyes were full and green, and she had a body built for lovemaking. There was something about her that mesm
erized his soul. It took a lot to stir his demons.

  “One hundred nine temperature, doc,” the nurse called out.

  She removed her stethoscope. “We need to get his temperature down. Remove his clothes and cover him in cold towels.” She opened his eyelids and shined her ophthalmoscope inside. “Pupils are dilated.”

  Clay stood back taking in the scene, praying that the kid would pull through.

  “Let’s give him some oxygen while you start an IV,” she instructed the nurse. “Two liters to start and 30 milligrams of diazepam.”

  “Should I prep for gastric lavage?” the nurse asked.

  “I want to get his temp down first.”

  “Right on it, doc.”

  “As for you…” She looked at Clay as she removed her latex medical gloves. “I have some questions for you.”

  Clay exhaled. This is when the bullshit story came into play. Hopefully, she’d buy it. However, she looked like a no nonsense woman.

  “Let’s step outside.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Clay opened the door for the good doctor, showcasing his southern charm.

  As soon as they were alone, Dr. Mason wasted no time. “What relation is the patient to you?”

  Clay removed his Stetson. “None. I was out minding my own business when I came across him. He approached me, asking for money, and that’s when he had a seizure. I couldn’t leave him on the street.” Was that the best story he could come up with? Being this prick’s cowboy hero, riding in to save the day. Lame! But for some reason, he felt the need to impress her. She wasn’t buying it.

  “So, you’re just doing a good deed, Mr.….”

  “Holiday, Clay Holiday.” He reached out to shake her hand, but the kind gesture was brushed off.

  “So, we have no idea who this kid is then. Am I correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “Well, Mr. Holiday…”

  Almighty God, he loved the sound of his name coming out of her mouth.

  “I think we’re dealing with an Ecstasy overdose. High temp, dilated pupils, increased heart rate…I’ve seen my fair share of X overdoses.”

  Clay nodded, completely focused on her plump, pink lips.

  “Once he’s stable, we may need to pump his stomach, depending on the severity of his symptoms. I would also like to run some blood work to check for liver and kidney damage.”

  “All right,” Clay agreed.

  “Since we don’t know anything about him, and you’re not related, you’re free to go.”

  “Nah, I’ll stay. I want to make sure the kid has someone here when he wakes up.”

  And there it was. He finally got a smile.

  “Ok. It might take a while, though.”

  “Sure. You go tend to the boy. I’ll be in the waiting room.”

  Clay watched as she turned to go back into the room. Before she entered, she glanced over at him. “There’s coffee on the third floor.”

  Clay tipped his head and smiled.

  He wanted to wait so the kid didn’t wake up alone? Again, he called bullshit. The boy was still his prisoner and the only link the Cowboys had to Mace.

  Hellfire! He knew darn well that the kid was on drugs, he could smell it. But it wasn’t Ecstasy. Dhampirs could tolerate large doses of human-made drugs. The same amount that could kill a mortal did nothing for half-breeds. Unless… Clay stopped mid-stride. Unless Mace was drugging young dhampirs.

  Damnation!

  As he stepped outside to move his truck, he called Roman. This wasn’t good for the Cowboys. The sole purpose of the brotherhood was to protect their race. It was what they fought and died for. How could their own blood turn against them? This drug had to be some powerful shit.

  “Hey, Roman. We need to talk.”

  19

  Two weeks later

  RC slammed the door closed to his truck. He revved the engine to life, then sped down the highway. All damn day his mind had been busy on his girl and he couldn’t wait to get back to the compound. He loved the feeling of coming home after his shift topside, knowing she’d be waiting for him, especially when she met him at the door wearing nothing but her pink cowgirl boots the way she’d done the day before. He’d barely had time to hang his rope before she dragged him back into the bedroom to have her way with him. He loved every minute of it. Life was going well for them.

  RC looked down at his belt—he was an official Hell’s Cowboy now. It had only been a week since they’d held a special ceremony to induct him into the brotherhood. Roman stood proud while he handed him the signature buckle. The silver skull was prized more than any other buckle he’d won during his bull riding career. This one held a new purpose. He’d found a family with the Cowboys and Charlee.

  But there was another reason he was busting at the seams. The white envelope in his front pocket. He had a huge surprise for Charlee and couldn’t wait to tell her.

  “Hey.” Tibbs grabbed his attention.

  RC glanced at him. “What?”

  “What’s with the grin? You’ve been smiling like a fool all day.”

  “Can’t I be happy?”

  Tibbs sulked. “I reckon with a female like Charlee waiting for you back home, I’d be grinning like an idiot too.”

  RC fixed his eyes on the road. There was something bothering Tibbs since they’d left this morning for work. It wasn’t like him to be a Debby Downer. “Hey, if it bothers you to have Charlee and Hank at the compound, we can move to another room. I have no problem asking Roman.”

  “Nah.” Tibbs waved him off. “I’d miss her cooking too much.”

  “She does keep us well fed.” RC smiled. “So what’s wrong, man? You’re sulking.”

  Tibbs adjusted his seat so he faced RC. “I don’t know. Maybe for once, I’d like to have a woman to come home to.”

  RC about hit the brakes. Tibbs settling down—no way. He’d seen the cowboy in action, giving the ladies his hillbilly special. His thirst for sex was unquenchable. One woman would never be enough.

  “I’m tired of all the meaningless sex. I want more. You know, like what you and Charlee have.”

  “Well, first you have to stop fucking around,” RC said sarcastically

  “Do you think I like being this way? I have no choice, it’s what he wants.” Tibbs shook his head. “I’m fucking cursed.”

  RC was taken aback by the hostile tone in the cowboy’s voice. “What do you mean what he wants?”

  “You’d never understand.”

  “Probably not, but there has to be a woman out there who’ll put up with your shit.”

  “Let’s just change the subject.” Tibbs faced the window, staring out at the desert.

  Yeah, there was definitely something brewing in that head of his; RC could feel the tension radiating off him.

  The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

  Once inside the compound, RC strode down the hallway heading to his room. He opened the door and was surprised that Charlee wasn’t there to greet him. Hank ran to him, jumping on his legs. “Hey boy.” He greeted Hank with a tummy scratch.

  “Honey, I’m home,” he called out as he hung his hat and rope by the front door. He tamped down the panic when Charlee didn’t respond. She was probably playing some kinky game, lying naked in bed.

  He raced to his bedroom and swung the door wide. Nope, no Charlee. Perhaps she was in the tub. Oh hell yeah, a bubble bath. He rounded the corner into the bathroom. The door was open and there was no sign of her. “Charlee, no more games. Where are you, girl?”

  RC ran back to the living area and knocked on Clay’s door. “Hey, have you seen Charlee?”

  No answer.

  Next, he knocked on Kit’s door. No one was home.

  Running his fingers through his hair, he turned around, his eyes searching the compound as he thought about where she could have gone. The sun had set…then it dawned on him—the ranch.

  Grabbing his hat and rope, RC ran like a bat out of hell to the parking garage.

 
Charlee walked up the stairs to the bedroom she’d occupied since she was a kid. For the last week she’d been wanting to come home and pack a few things before Mace took possession of the property. The heartache was eating her alive. She’d spent the last two weeks trying to convince herself to come, but she couldn’t take the pain of knowing she’d failed to keep her family’s ranch. RC had warned her that it was too dangerous for her to go alone, but what he didn’t understand was that she had to say goodbye on her own.

  A tear rolled down her cheek as she set the box down on the bed. The sheets were still a wadded mess from the last time she’d made love with RC. She picked up a pillow and held it against her face. God, it still had her cowboy’s scent all over it.

  Shaking her melancholic daze, she made her way to her dresser and packed a few pieces of jewelry Gran had given her, a pink teddy bear, and some old pictures hanging from the mirror. She quickly rummaged through her drawers. Tears welled in her eyes and her hands began to shake. Perhaps it was too soon to come back home.

  She sniffed back the tears and walked over to her closet and flipped through the hangers. Each garment characterized who she used to be. In frustration, she tore the clothes off the hangers and threw them on the floor. She felt like an imposter.

  This room represented a different life—a girl who had been much simpler compared to now. A life she longed to live again. She mourned her former self.

  She looked around the room; this was a bad idea. She had to get out of here. Grabbing the box, she headed down the stairs and stopped when she reached the bottom step. Pictures from the fireplace mantle beckoned her. She sat the box down on the couch. One by one, she dusted off the old picture frames, then laid them in the container. Even though she was no longer the country girl from next door, she’d never forget where she came from. These treasures were all she had left.