Dirty Little Secret

Chapter 10

He only had a moment to think about what to say before she came bursting through the door between their rooms. His wine clouded mind wasn't able to come up with even one reasonable explanation other than the truth, but it was able to register her skimpy clothing. She was wearing nothing but a Dallas Cowboys football jersey, that barely covered her hips. Her hair hung down around her shoulders in waves tousled from sleep. She was gorgeous. And angry.

"What the fuck is going on?" she asked, her eyes flashing green fire.

She threw her arms up in the air and Jon caught the briefest glimpse of white cotton panties. That was his Mac, a no frills kind of girl. No fancy satin or lace. His eyes traveled the length of her beautiful legs.

But, her voice drew his gaze back to her face. "I asked you a question, Bon Jovi." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Uh," he began, "I don't..."

"Don't you dare," she interrupted him, uncrossing her arms to point a finger at him threateningly, "don't you dare try to tell me you don't know what I'm talking about or that you don't know what's going on. Because, I know you do."

"Mac," he tried again, "this requires an elaborate explanation. Can't we talk about this in the morning?" he asked, his voice slurring slightly.

"You're drunk," she accused for the second time, then gasped.

He stood swaying slightly as she marched across the room. Mac jerked his shirt aside, popping a button off that fell unheeded to the floor.

"I knew it," she gasped when she saw the mark. "It wasn't just a dream, was it? You were in my head," she said, glaring at him, daring him to deny it.

Jon met her gaze. While he scrambled for an explanation, he failed to notice when she slid into his head. How do I tell her I'm a vampire without it sounding crazy? Various ideas crossed his mind, but he discarded them all, while Mac quietly withdrew from his head.

As crazy as it sounded, now it all made sense.

~him opening a door without having to unlock it.
~the chair back under his feet without him having moved.
~his unexplained absences from group activities.
~the visions of him sucking on female necks.
~he looked younger when he slept.
~the butterfly sensation whenever he was around and his raised eyebrow that accompanied them.
~the graceful moves of a predator.
~the overwhelming sense of danger that surrounded him.
~the aura of sex that he oozed with every move, without even trying.
~his barely controlled passion after that first kiss; the fact that he wouldn't look at her afterwards.

"Show me your fangs," she ordered in awe, barely above a whisper.

Jon's jaw dropped. "What?"

"You heard me," she said softly.

"Mac," he tried to placate her.

She stepped closer to him and ran a finger seductively down his chest while he watched in amazement. Where had this self-confidence come from?

"Or do they only grow when something else does," she asked sensually, as she leaned forward to kiss his neck. She trailed kisses down his neck and across his chest, pausing at the mark, then over to a flat male nipple that she circled with her tongue.

Jon groaned as his fangs lengthened. "How did you guess?"

She stepped back from him and smiled in triumph. "I was in your head."

He frowned. "And how did you do that?"

"I have no idea," she answered, shrugging.

"You have secrets you aren't sharing," he accused.