Harlequin Nocturne September 2014 Bundle: Beyond the Moon\Immortal Obsession (8 page)

“Protecting?” Rook looked to Verity.

“I didn't tell them you were protecting me,” she said. “Exactly. He's looking for the vampire who bit me, and that's enough talk of that. Really, I don't want to get into this. You're making it sound much more dire than it really is. Vail, could you leave? And, Rook, could you wait outside while I change?”

“Of course.” With a wrinkle of concern to his brow, he stepped aside to allow the vampire to exit first. “Vaillant. You're friends with one of our knights, Kasper Rothstein, right?”

“Depends on how you define friends. Let's talk, man.” Vail strolled out.

Rook gave Verity a wondering glance and then a wink before he closed the door behind him.

“Mercy, he is handsome.” Lyric fanned herself with a hand before her face. “Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie. I don't mean to discount what's happened to you—but, damn.”

“He is incredible.”

“He was surprised about the mention of protecting you. Does he
know
you need him to help you?”

“Not exactly. Like I said, I know the spell worked. When has my magic ever failed me?”

Lyric shrugged.

“Rook is my backup plan. I'm helping him to track the vampire because he thinks it will lead him to tribe Zmaj, who are on the Order's hit list. Oh!” Verity put a hand to her mouth. “I wasn't supposed to tell anyone that.”

“Don't worry. I have no love for half the tribes in Paris. What the hunters do is their own business. So long as they stay away from my family.” She tilted Verity's head against her shoulder. “I thought your mother had ensured you were all about avoiding hunters.”

“She did, and I am. But you know I always like to give a man a chance.”

“Until you dump him like a rotting corpse after two dates.”

“Usually they get three.”

“Maybe you should have Vail go after the vamp for you. The hunter is handsome, but good looks do not equal trust.”

“I don't have to trust him. I just need him to trust me while we work together to find his soul.”

“His—what?”

Verity clasped her fingers at her throat, missing the solace of the warm wooden heart. “Remember the soul in the heart I told you about?”

“Right, you dug it out of a tree back when the women wore those frumpy long skirts and billowy shirtsleeves. It belongs to the hunter?”

Verity nodded. “We think so. But it was stolen by the vampire who bit me. Lyric, I know Rook and I have been brought together by forces greater than we can imagine. And the soul has been close to my heart all these years. I feel as if I know it. Which is how I felt when I first met Rook. As if we have known one another or, at the least, belong together.”

“Wow. This coming from the three-date maximum chick?”

Verity could only shrug. How to answer that one?

“He is cute,” Lyric offered, “but be careful. Take your time, sweetie.”

“I plan to. But you know, my grandmother Freesia once told me that I shouldn't stop trusting all men. That I should recognize when the right man to trust comes along. Lyric, I think he's come into my life.”

The vampiress hugged her and rubbed her back. “I certainly hope so. But to be safe, you keep my phone number with you at all times. If the hunter turns on you, I'll sic Vail on him.”

* * *

Vail strolled in front of Rook as they waited on the back loading dock for the women. The baby strapped to the vampire's chest slept peacefully, head bowed and hands tucked beneath her pudgy chin. Her father was in classic vampire black from coal-dark hair to the black suede boots studded with silver. Silver rings glinted on his fingers as he swung his arms casually.

“So,” Vail said, “you and Verity have a thing going on?”

“A thing?”

“Yeah. A thing. You getting all up in her business?”

The vamp had an uncouth manner about him, but Rook knew from Kaz's reports he was not to be feared and was a trusted informant to the Order. Still, that didn't mean he had to bump fists or sing “Kumbaya” with the longtooth.

“We've known each other a few days. I like her. She likes me. That's all you're going to get.”

“Fair enough.” Vail cradled the infant possessively, likely unaware how unthreatening a vampire with a pink-clothed toddler strapped to his chest appeared. “You going after the vamp who bit her?”

“That is my intention. But it's not because Verity is worried about transforming. She performed a spell to counteract the bite. She's fine. I just don't like it when vamps pick on pretty witches.”

Vail nodded, looking down his nose at him. Trying to decide whether or not to like him. Rook preferred he did not. He had enough longtooth friends. One, to be exact. He needn't any more.

“Verity is my wife's friend. If anyone hurts her…”

“I get it,” Rook said. “We won't be coming to arms over the witch. I promise you that.”

“Good. So who is this vamp you're looking for?”

“I don't have a name, only the tribe. Zmaj.”

“Zmaj. Johnny was mixed up with that tribe a while back. They were an okay bunch.”

“They've changed. Frederick Slater is now their leader.”

Vail sneered, revealing fangs. “That bastard dated Verity a while ago.”

Rook tilted his head. She'd dated a vampire? That was new to him. But he wouldn't show Vail his surprise.

“She's not anymore,” Rook stated as a means to verify his guess.

“'Course not. The guy is an asshole. Tried to enslave her. Uh, she told you that, right?”

Rook nodded. This investigation just got a whole lot more personal.

Chapter 6

V
erity found Rook waiting outside the backstage door. A smile glinted in his eyes when he saw her. From her stash of clothing she kept in her dressing room, she had slipped into a soft heather dress that ruffled above her knees and was cinched with a deeper purple velvet bow at the waist. Add to that the black suede thigh boots and a few moonstone bangles on her wrist, and she felt presentable. But it was chilly out this late, and she wished she'd brought along a sweater.

After Vail and Lyric strolled off with Summer, she asked, “Did you like the show?”

Rook pulled her into his arms and kissed her in the shadows against the limestone wall. The chills she'd been feeling? Gone
like that
as his hands burnished across her skin, seeping his slight coolness against her until they alchemized warmth between the two of them.

She melted against his solid form as she stood on tiptoes to capture his intensity. The man never simply kissed her. He devoured her. He also left an indelible mark on her that she knew she might never erase. And for that she must be cautious.

Lyric had been right. Three times was her limit. But they hadn't fallen into bed yet, so she would extend this tête-à-tête as long as possible. And perhaps the definition of date should be altered too.

“Your performance was amazing,” he said as he pulled back and brushed a thick hank of her hair over her shoulder. But his smile fled too quickly. “Witches and fire.” He smirked, and she sensed he wasn't completely behind her act and was probably just saying nice things.

“You didn't like it.”

“I did. It just…surprised me.” His brow furrowed, and the scar tugged up the end of the brow. A sinister arch. “Lots of surprises tonight. You're quite the gymnast.”

He was changing the topic, but she would grant him that because she sensed something was off with him. “Lyric taught me the gymnastics. Her act involves acrobatic silks. She literally flies on a couple strips of bright fabric. It's amazing.”

“The two of you must be the beauty in a show that offers all sorts of dark and wicked things.”

“You saw the act that followed mine?”

“I didn't hang around to watch, but I'm guessing I wouldn't like to hear what that was about.”

“The human is not killed.”

“Would it be a mercy if he was?”

Verity sighed. She didn't want to discuss the morality of an act that wasn't hers. Not taking sides was the wisest way to remain alive. Unless, of course, she'd been seduced by macarons.

“Sunday night shows are paranormals only,” she said. “I'm surprised you were allowed admission.”

“When asked at the ticket counter, I said I was demon. Though I don't like to make that claim. Ever.”

“How does Oz feel about that?”

“He is in agreement. I am not him, and he is not me. Yet we are one another. If you can understand that. Let's walk.”

He wrapped an arm about her shoulder and they walked, as if lovers. It thrilled Verity that he was so easy with her. And it wasn't in a covetous, ownership way as some men were wont to behave. Rook subtly claimed her, but he also allowed her the distance and independence she required. He wouldn't force her to do a thing, yet any opportunity to stand close to him she would take.

“Was Vail's baby wearing a bedazzled skull on its cap?” he asked as they strolled a cobbled street away from the river.

“Yes. That was Summer, their second child. Vail is proud of his children. They won't know if the baby is vamp until she reaches puberty.”

“Don't all children of bloodborn vamps become vampire?”

“Not always. A rare few are completely lacking in blood hunger.”

“Interesting. I had no idea. I'll have to…”

She squeezed his hand. “You're making notes in your head, aren't you, hunter?”

“So I am. I marvel after living so long that I can still learn new things. Let's detour through the Metro. I don't want you walking so far in those high heels.”

Fine with her. The heels were high, and she appreciated that he'd noticed. Each slid their Metro cards through the turnstile, and they caught a train heading to her neighborhood. Only one stop. A quick ride. Rook secured a steel pole for the two of them. Verity had to stand close, chest to chest with him to avoid stepping back and stumbling up against the pregnant woman seated behind her.

The hunter's eyes were blue and speckled with dark, almost appearing freckled. He smiled at her intense curiosity, and she tapped his chin with a finger, tracing the stubble. Tilting up onto her tiptoes, she placed her mouth close to his, but instead of kissing him, she held his gaze.

The innate coolness of him simmered to an eager warmth, as if she rubbed flames against his body. His was an invisible fire that sought her skin with a brush of desire. To kiss him in front of everyone on the train would be too simple and blatant. And it would spoil the tease.

Dashing out her tongue across her lower lip, she then dipped her head and looked aside, unable to control the wide smile as she met an old man's eyes across the rows of faces. The man nodded to her and winked.

Rook's hand slid around her waist, and his thumb fit against her spine. Verity closed her eyes and tilted her head against his shoulder, sinking into his burnt peaches and tobacco scent and allowing the train to rock her gent­ly against his hard chest.

As it had felt when she had spotted him from the stage, her soul sighed and relaxed.

She didn't know Rook well enough to judge whether or not he'd make a good boyfriend. Yet she did feel like a certain emptiness had crept into her heart over the past several decades. She desired a lover, a relationship, and yes, she could even see herself saying vows to another someday in the future. That was why she had allowed herself to stay with her previous lover so long. But she wasn't going to start shopping for a veil and party favors. This was a new and exciting adventure with a handsome, sensual man.

And it was difficult to erase her mother's voice from her brain. But she did have Freesia's suggestion to push her toward at least trying to allow the man into her circle of trust. She wanted to.

But did she need to?

Once off the train, they emerged beneath a streetlight amid a spill of passengers that flowed out to all directions of the compass under the velvet night sky. Verity tugged Rook along toward her home, a five-minute walk from the station. She felt light and not at all worried that the moon was waxing gibbous. Swinging his hand in hers and skipping down the street, she raced him toward something she'd never known—a blissful surrender.

Once inside the purple wrought iron gate, Rook swept Verity into his arms and twirled her on the cobbled walk. Her heels clipped some of the tall growing herbs, releasing rosemary and thyme into the air.

“Just felt like doing that,” he said, setting her down on the steps. The surprise on his face was genuine. “Must be something in the air tonight.”

Indeed, something like lust and romance and all that sparkly, frilly stuff that made Verity's insides giggle and stretch and then coil in anticipation.

“Maybe it's all the flowers.” The knight in black duster coat looked around the front yard.

“It does smell gorgeous, doesn't it? Like an exotic elixir designed to intoxicate. But you look out of place.”

He spread out his arms and his coat opened to reveal a flash of deadly stakes. “The coat does come off.”

“That's a start,” she said and turned as she skipped up the steps to hide her irrepressible grin.

She opened the door, pushed it inside and turned to find Rook, sans coat, swing in from the threshold and plant a kiss on the underside of her jaw. He nuzzled his nose along her skin, drawing it up and landing on her mouth with another kiss.

“Your performance was incredible,” he said between kisses.

“You've never been to a Demon Arts performance before?”

“Not much time for shows of any sort. Usually busy with work.”

“You're very disciplined.”

“Something you can understand, yes?” He kissed her eyelid. “The work you do with fire is amazing. And yet…”

His sigh and sudden letdown of his body against hers prompted Verity to wonder what was wrong. “Rook?”

“Sorry. Some weird stuff came up watching your fire magic. Memories.”

“You knew a fire witch before?”

“No, not like that. Uh, well, now that I've said it, you should know. I've witnessed a witch being burned at the stake. So to see a witch in the vicinity of fire doesn't sit well with me. Makes me nervous.” He inhaled, then exhaled heavily. “And with that confession, let's move beyond the uncomfortable topic and taste each other again.”

He had fallen into some bad memories and was desperately trying not to get lost in them. Verity could understand. She'd watched her mother burn at the stake. Now was no time to relive that horror. But she respected fire and the elementals who provided it to her, so she did not fear its harm.

She'd explain it to him some other time. The mood they'd conjured did not welcome such a heavy conversation.

Circling Rook in the open doorway, she pushed one of his shoulders against the foyer wall. Moonlight beamed across the parquet flooring and their legs while their upper bodies remained in shadow.

“I can make you think of better things,” she said. “But it requires your cooperation.” He lifted a curious brow. “Put your hands on me.”

He clasped her hips and squeezed, pressing his fingers to urge her closer. Led forward by his expectant lifted brow, Verity stepped between his splayed legs. A full head taller than her, he shuffled down the wall to a bent-leg stance until their faces were level. She lashed her tongue across his lower lip. The man moaned appreciatively.

Burying her nose into his soft hair felt like the finest luxury. She could get lost in this man. “You smell like burnt peaches and tobacco smoke. Makes me hungry for you.”

“You smell like—”

“Don't even try to guess. I still have traces of the flame retardant on my skin. It's homemade and completely natural. It's not too awful, is it?”

“It's spicy. Smells like cloves and…”

“Lemon thyme.”

“I like it. Flame retardant, eh? Does that mean I'm safe from getting burned by you?”

“Do you want to be safe?”

His grin turned wicked. “Never.”

He tilted her hips against his loins and trailed kisses from her mouth and downward. As she lifted her chin, he traveled down her throat with soft, tender touches and scintillating licks. Tenderly, he slayed her inhibitions. Sliding her leg up along his hip, she hugged his abdomen with hers, delighting in the rigid muscles that spoke of strength and discipline.

Pushing her fingers through his hair, she gripped it tightly and kissed him deeply. Getting lost in him was a perfect way to end the night. Bodies melding, tongue dancing, heartbeats drumming a wanting thunder. She needed this man. She needed the intimate connection.

Just once or twice. Or maybe even three times. And then, never again.

“Uh, Verity?”

“What?”

“A cat is watching us.”

Without glancing toward the threshold, she pulled his head back down to make sure his kisses at the base of her neck did not stop. “That's just Thomas. You know where the food is, Thomas.”

“Me-OW!”

“Was that a snarky meow?” Distracted, Rook leaned back and eyed the calico feline that traipsed down the hallway toward the kitchen.

“Thomas has an attitude.” And she hated cats who interrupted intense make-out sessions.

“He yours?”

Seriously? He wanted to chat about the cat instead of kiss her? “That alley cat belongs to no one yet claims every female he encounters. He's a Casanova, but he'll never get more than a few kitty treats and food from me. Enough about the cat.”

She kissed him, silencing further pointless questions.

Mouths touching and opening against one another, they dashed tongues in intimate swordplay. He plunged in deep, tasting her. Making her forget about snoopy cats. All that mattered was the two of them, crushed up against one another, giving and taking as much as they could offer.

And what he offered was dark and delicious. Mysteriously enticing. Verity didn't want to learn all his secrets—only the ones he wanted her to know. It was a fair trade for the secrets she was willing to share.

Of course, she didn't have any secrets. So there was that.

Ten minutes later, the cat strolled around Verity and Rook's entwined legs. He meowed again, following with a purring flutter of cat sounds.

Rook paused from their kiss and followed the feline's exit across the threshold, where the cat made a leap over his abandoned Order coat. “Now that was definitely cat laughter.”

“I think you're right.” She closed the door behind Thomas and buried herself in Rook's embrace. “You know any familiars in your line of work?”

“Cat's a familiar? Uh, no. I stick mostly to vampires.”

“Speaking of vampires, did you and Vail have an interesting discussion?”

“Interesting is the exact word for it. He cares about you and made it clear he will protect you at any cost. You know…it's some kind of crazy that I found you,” he said, stroking the hair from her face.

“What do you mean?” She wanted to kiss, not talk.

“I was stalking Frederick Slater that night we first met. Yet who would have thought I'd run into the one person on this planet who had my soul?”

“Slater?” She stepped back from the embrace, absently touching her kiss-plumped lips. “You were after Freddie Slater? I thought you were out hunting.”

“You call him Freddie?” She saw the mental note-taking flash in his blue irises. “Do you know him, Verity?”

“I, uh…he's with Zmaj, right?”

“Yes, their leader. He's our most-wanted vamp right now. I mentioned the tribe to you. You didn't tie that in with Slater?”